The Devil in Her Heart
by EllePCharles
Summary: When Cara receives a psychic prediction during a bachelorette party entailing "a demonic presence approaching her near future," she is determined not to believe such supernatural things exist. But when she is visited at work by a strange man with unearthly features it seems only Cara can perceive, she begins questioning everything…including her sanity. *INSPIRED by HP & Twilight*
1. Chapter 1

"_I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul." _

- Pablo Neruda

Deep down, I had always believed that there were supernatural things in the world. I'm not a religious person, but now that I'm thinking about it, I wish I were. But would God have even accepted an abomination like me if I asked? Surely not. There must not be a place in heaven for demons and monsters.

In the beginning it had been so much fun, realizing I was different. Isn't it ingrained in us as children to want to be supernatural or have magical powers? For me, it wasn't just a childish daydream anymore. It was reality, but it wasn't very pretty.

All I could see were bodies hanging, seeming to go on for miles and miles. And blood. So much blood. I covered my face, trying not to see the bodies hanging before me. Someone was screaming…and I realized it was me.

**One**

I stifled an exasperated sigh when we pulled up into a gravel parking lot off Highway 17. "Oh my god, this is going to be so much fun!" one of my sister's friends, Maggie I think her name was, practically screamed in my ear.

"This lady better not tell me that me and Scott are going to divorce in a year, or I will seriously hurt someone!" my sister shouted dramatically, turning in her seat so she could look at her friends in the back, all while holding her bachelorette crown in place.

Jessie is technically my half sister, but I never call her that. It seems wrong to refer to her as my half sister as though I consider her less than the real thing. I never liked telling people anyway, because the follow-up question is always, "Well, who's your dad, then?" Since I don't know who my father is and neither does my mom, that conversation always ends in awkward silence. When I was born, Bruce, my mother's on-and-off boyfriend, was there, ready to assume the responsibility of dad even though I wasn't his. They each recall the story a little differently, but one thing Bruce and my mom can completely agree on when it comes to their early years is that when I was born, everything changed. When Bruce held me for the first time in that hospital in Charleston, South Carolina, eyes brimming with tears, my mom knew that he was the one for her. No one else would ever compare. I whole-heartedly agree with that. Even though I am a little curious about my birth father, Bruce has always been and will always be my dad. Cara Marie Hansen, they named me.

They got married a couple months after my birth and a year later, my sister Jessie was born. Oh, what can I say about Jessie? Jessie is beautiful. She has a lot of my mom in her: blue eyes, soft features, and admired by everyone around her. Then she has Bruce's easily tanned skin, which further accentuates the paleness of her highlighted hair and blueness of her eyes. Through high school she was on top of her class, head cheerleader, and Miss Popularity. She did everything right by my parents as if it were just natural to her. She worked at Bruce's concrete company as a secretary, something I've never been interested in doing, while also attending nursing school. Now she has a career and she's getting married. So, she's basically perfect. Very, very different from me.

I, on the other hand, have never really felt beautiful, especially next to her and hell, even next to my mom! The only physical trait I've inherited that resembles either of them is light blond hair, which I usually keep at shoulder length. I didn't get my mother's oval face or soft features, but more of a square face and dramatic features. My eyes are a little too far apart to be standard pretty, and they are black. Not brown, but black. My skin is blindingly pale, and I get burned so easily I was thought to be allergic to sunlight. I'm not, but I might as well be. And living in a sunny town where human interaction revolves around going to the beach and going boating has made my social life even less existent. But what I hate most about my looks is my height. I'm six feet and skinny as a beanpole. I don't have poise and grace like some leggy girls. No, I'm just awkward and tall. I still cringe remembering middle school, where I was the tallest kid in my class, even taller than the boys. I didn't seem to develop like the other girls, but just kept on growing taller! So, there was no shortage of ammo for bullies to throw at me growing up. I don't like to complain, but it is a little depressing always being in your sister's shadow. If you can be in your sister's shadow when you're a head taller than she, that is.

I do have good things to say about myself, though. I am gifted musically, enough so that I've been able to play almost every instrument I've picked up since I was a child. Despite my family believing I was a musical child prodigy, no one besides them has ever recognized my talent. For example, I was in marching band and entered competitions with my high school, but though our school always placed high, I was one of the few to not get a music scholarship. It's not that I'm looking for everyone to pat me on the back, by any means; I just want to feel like I have a place in the world. I don't want to be my sister or have everyone's admiration. I guess I just want to know what it's like _not_ being invisible.

But all things considered, I have a lot to be grateful for. I have an apartment in the city that would be enviable to most my age, which I pay for by waitressing and bartending, and I have a wonderful family. I consider my sister Jessie to be my best friend, though lately we haven't spent much time together, because she met Scott, her soon-to-be-husband. But she's happy and I'm not resentful… except for the fact that I was suckered into being the designated driver, AKA babysitter, for her bachelorette party.

"Oh, this lady is amazing! I'm sure she will say that you and Scott will be together forever, just like we all know you will!" gushed another one of Jessie's friends. I rolled my eyes. Even though I agreed their relationship would last, I couldn't take much more booze-fueled babbling. It was almost three o' clock in the morning, and we had been out at the bars all night. Still, the torture continued and we had one last stop: a "Psychic Vision Center" in the straight-up ghetto of Charleston. _Yippee!_

I couldn't help but let out a tired sigh when we parked at our last destination. Well, our last destination before I'd be taking them all home. _Ugh, kill me._ "Here we are, girls." I had meant to sound happy or excited, but it came out as a grumble.

They all squealed, a wordless sound that pierced my ears, and hurried out of the car, practically stumbling over each other. A red neon sign in the shape of a hand hung above the small building with "Lady Sage's Psychic Readings" under it. As dark as the windows were, I would have assumed the place was closed, but for another neon sign in the window that flashed _open_. I vaguely remembered that the building had been a chiropractor's office a few years back.

"This lady is so amazing," said Michelle, the one who had dragged us here. "She told me I was about to have a new, like, change in my life and I totally got the job I wanted."

"Oh my god, that is _crazy_," said another one of Jessie's friends, a short blond that had introduced herself as Alyssa.

They all clutched each other and hobbled on their high heels as they walked toward the building, my sister adjusting the plastic crown on her head for the millionth time that night, and I resisted the urge to groan as I followed.

When we walked in, the smell of incense overwhelmed my nose and a little bell rang above our heads, singing our arrival. There was no overhead lighting, but the room was lit with countless candles flickering in every possible space, making me wonder if that was a serious fire hazard.

"Hello, my children!" A woman sang from where she sat behind the counter, surrounded by candles. She was a heavier-set woman with a large amount of frizzy, brown hair with very visible grays throughout it. When she came around the counter, I was surprised to see that she hadn't been sitting at all; she was just very short. She looked the part of a psychic in a puffy white shirt, a cloth belt tied underneath her large breasts, and a billowing crushed velvet skirt. All she needed was a purple cloth headband and maybe some gold coins jingling from her belt and she would be the perfect gypsy psychic reader.

"I am Lady Sage, and I will be your psychic guide this evening," she said in a sing song voice, with a dramatic sweep of her hand. "Are you ladies the Hansen party?"

"Yes, yes, that's us. I'm Jessie Hansen," my sister blurted out, her words slightly jumbled together with both drunkenness and excitement.

Lady Sage gracefully kept her smile in place, though I noticed it faltered just a bit.

"Would you like us to pay now, or would you like us to wait till the end?" I chimed in.

"Payments first, my children, please," she said, beaming at me, and I think she could tell that I, at least, wasn't drunk.

"Four, all separate!" said Michelle, the one who had been here before.

Lady Sage's eyes rolled over each one of us for a second. "Not five?" There were five of us, after all.

"No," Jessie said, rolling her eyes. "My sister _doesn't want a reading_." The last part she said very uncivilly.

"I am fine," I said quickly. _Just get me into my bed, please_, I thought.

"Are you sure?" Lady Sage asked.

"I'm OK," I said. If all else fails, use different wording. I didn't believe in psychic mumbo jumbo, but maybe under different circumstances I would have been curious enough to get a reading. As it was, I was sober and tired, and more interested in sleep than anything else.

"All right," she said, shrugging. "Miss Hansen, the lovely bride to be, will you step into this room…" She gestured to an open door to the right. "The others, you may sit in the chairs behind you, or feel free to go into the room on your left for some items for sale."

I followed Jessie's friends into the room of "items for sale," while Jessie went into the room with Lady Sage. The room that had once been clean and had a chiropractor's table now appeared to have been long neglected, giving it a totally different feel. The vibes the room gave off were those of a disorganized room in someone's house that you weren't supposed to be in. _Trespassing_, it almost felt like.

One floor lamp bathed the room with a yellow glow. I think it was the only actual electric light in the entire place. A sign on a nearby stand looked like it belonged at a fast food restaurant, but instead of saying "Line starts here," it said "You steal it, and you take bad luck." I huffed at that. That didn't actually deter anyone from stealing, did it? Two tables took up most of the room, stacked with books and random little trinkets. There were books claiming to be spell books, little jars of spices and herbs, and a lot of other things that seemed to have no specific order to their placement. I finally got bored looking through the books and sat in the candle-lit, thickly incensed lobby. Jessie's friends chattered to each other, flipping through magazines, completely ignoring me, which was fine. Each took her turn with the psychic and came back out with a little story of what Lady Sage had said.

"She said Scott and I will last," Jessie said happily. "I knew she would."

"She said I'm gonna marry rich," said Maggie, the first friend.

"I totally get the feeling that she is the real deal," Jessie said.

"I know!" said Maggie, and they squeezed each other's hands and made an excited squeal. I rolled my eyes to myself.

"Cara!" said Michelle. "It's your turn!"

"I didn't pay, remember?" I sounded grumpy even to my own ears.

"Too bad, she says she'll give you a reading for free!" she said, ushering me up out of my seat. "You're going!" They all gave a drunken cheer.

I opened my mouth to protest, but my sister pushed on the small of my back toward the open door. "Go ahead and just do it! There is nothing to be afraid of!" But her warning tone said, _Don't insult the lady_.

"I'm not afraid!" I said, but I knew there was no reason to argue at this point. Better not to express my true feelings. _I'm sick of all of you and I want to go home._ Lady Sage stepped to the side to let me through the door, and I was very aware of how much I towered over her as I walked into the room.

The other rooms had been small, but this room was tiny and I wondered if it had been a walk-in closet in its former life. There was just enough room for two people to maneuver around a small table and two chairs, but she had managed to stuff lit candles in almost every other space. I suddenly felt anxious, and I chalked it up to being in such a tiny room that could be engulfed in flames at any given moment.

"I know you don't believe, Cara Marie Hansen," she said, shutting the door behind us. Light flickered and cast a strange, ugly shadow on her face when she looked back at me. "Almost no one believes when they come. But that will change."

_How did she know my full name? _I wondered. _Had the girl that had set up our appointment given our names? _It wouldn't be too hard to find in this day in age, especially in a small town like this, but I guessed she would reply with superstitious crap if I asked, so I said nothing.

"Please, sit," she said, motioning to the farthest chair from the door. I tried not to sigh and stepped around an arrangement of lit candles on the floor to sit in the chair she had indicated. When I sat I noticed the display she had laid on the table: a stack of cards, along with an honest-to-god crystal ball. I don't know why, but I had to stop myself from barking out a laugh at seeing the crystal ball, maybe because I'd always assumed they were just something fabricated by sat across from me, her short, stocky body almost completely blockading the entrance. Her thick arms on each side almost touched the walls; brown and gray hair cascaded around her.

_No wonder she sits closest to the door; she can't fit around the table! _I thought, then felt a little bad for thinking it. I was being cranky.

She picked up her stack of oversized cards and started shuffling them, staring into my face. The laughter inside me quickly died away and was replaced with discomfort at her intrusive gaze. Something about her gave me the willies. "First I will assess your personality and past as I can see it. Then we will go on to your future," she said as she placed cards on the table, face down.

"Okay," I answered.

When she set the remainder of the deck aside there were eight cards spread out between us, four in a straight line with two above them and two beneath them. She flipped over the middle two cards and I was awed at the beautiful detailed pictures on them. They were hand painted with gold details here and there, one of them a lady with a flower crown and the other one a hand holding a sword. "Your center cards represent your personality traits that are currently the strongest or most prominent. These sometimes change depending on what you're learning about yourself or going through at the time. Your center cards are the Ace of Swords and the Empress," she said, touching each card. "The Ace of Swords, like all cards, could be interpreted many different ways, but based on my first impressions and intuitive thoughts, I believe this means you are a brave person. Even though you may not feel like you are brave, I see you being a person who continuously sticks out her neck for other people."

That didn't seem right. I'd like to _think_ it was right.

"The Empress represents creativity in a lot of cases," she continued. "I'm seeing that you are a creative person, but more specifically, musically inclined. I see you playing instruments constantly. All types of instruments."

I was taken aback, and I know my eyebrows shot up in surprise. When she looked up at my face, she smiled, my look of shock confirming her assumptions.

"Your outer cards indicate traits that are more deeply ingrained and not likely to change," she said, flipping two cards, each on opposite ends of the spread. "These are the Queen of Wands reversed and the Knight of Swords. I'm seeing that you are a woman who is driven by a desire to be helpful and kind toward others, especially your family. I believe you are very passionate about your family. You are fairly upbeat and cheerful, though not overly so."

I snorted at that. I certainly wasn't overly cheerful and upbeat tonight!

"Are you ready to go to your past?" she asked.

"Sure," I said, smiling. I was starting to enjoy this card reading. I was liking my cards, and I hoped she was right about me.

She flipped the two cards closest to me. The first card she flipped had a drawing of what looked to be eight sticks. The second card showed a dark, cloaked figure with his head bent down, as if sad, with five cups. Three cups were spilled before him and two were upright and whole behind him. Of course I knew nothing about tarot cards, but the character looking dark and depressed bent over the spilled cups looked like a bad card to have.

"Your cards representing the past are the Eight of Wands and Five of Cups. When the Eight of Wands appears, nothing seems to be moving ahead in your life. This card indicates that you have been frustrated and tired of waiting for a long time. I see you putting yourself out there and never getting anything back in return. You don't have much of a love life to speak of, and I don't see that you have many friends, for that matter…" I flinched at that piece of hurtful truth. How could she possibly know that? Did something about the look of me give her that impression and she'd made a lucky guess? Or was she really somehow getting a glimpse of my past?

"This other card," she continued, pointing to the dark figure bent over his spilled cups, "the Five of Cups implies that you've been too focused on the negative instead of the positive. I believe that you view yourself in a bad light, like you are not pretty or good enough for people. I see you trying to live up to the expectations of your parents, and you feel that you'll never succeed at that. I'm glad to see that this card is in your past and not your future. I can see you've been struggling for a long time, but I encourage you to try to leave those negative feelings behind you."

I nodded at her, trying to listen, but still a little distracted by the very plain card with eight sticks, wondering how it could have possibly indicated that I didn't have much of a love life to speak of. Surely my sister or one of her friends had told her?

"Let's go to your future cards, shall we?" she said, turning the last two cards closest to her. I stiffened involuntarily at the sight of the last two cards. Death and the Devil, they read. The Death card had a skeleton in knight's armor riding a horse. People prayed before him, for mercy I suppose, and people lay dead on the ground underneath his horse. The Devil card showed the devil, obviously, but with two naked demon-like humans chained to his seat beneath him, one male and one female. Before I could even think of what I was doing, I leaned away from the cards as if they might burn me, letting discomfort show plainly on my face.

"Oh!" she said, sounding surprised until she collected herself. "Don't be afraid of the Death card. The Death card usually means transformation or a new beginning, and looking at your past, a new beginning is what we'd want to see." Her words were as soothing as milk and honey, but the slight pucker between her brows seemed like a warning.

"The Devil card…" she paused for a moment, tapping a finger to her lip while thinking. "The Devil card is another card that isn't as ominous as it may seem. A lot of times it means internal struggle or trickery. I'm seeing…" She was quiet again, but the look on her face showed her confusion, and the way she looked down at the card, I wondered if she was seeing things that I couldn't see. Hell, she'd figured out I'd never had a boyfriend from eight sticks!

She moved the finger that had been over her lips to gently trace the shape of the devil on the card, and I watched her in expectant silence. Without warning, she jerked in her chair and her head snapped backwards at a painful-looking speed. I jumped out of pure surprise, and I caught a glimpse of white where her eyes rolled into the back of her skull. I stared at her in horrified amazement and before I could ask what was happening, her head fell back forward, her eyes meeting mine. They looked too large, bulging out of her head with too much white visible. I could almost see my reflection in those too-wide, fearful eyes. Her breath came out in heavy gasps.

"Are you okay?" I asked, reaching a hand out as if to comfort her or steady her, but not completely closing the distance. She looked as if she'd just seen a ghost—or like she was still seeing one!

Her voice came out as a whispered hiss. "A darkness…a darkness approaches you. He is very close. _Coming_." The candles that surrounded us seemed to dim and I could see nothing but her shadowed face in the sudden darkness. The hair on the back of my neck stood and threatened to jump off my body, and I thought if she was trying to scare me, she was doing a damn good job.

"I'd like to stop now," I said, and my voice came out in a low squeak.

"A demonic presence straight from hell itself!" she continued, her dark eyes boring into mine. She looked like a demon herself in that moment as shadows distorted the look of disgust on her round face. Her eyes focused more, and I realized she was aiming the look of disgust toward me… But why?

"You!" she yelled and jumped up into a standing position, flinging her chair back and toppling over some candles. Luckily the excess wax spread along the floor and extinguished the flames on impact. I was surprised at how fast she could move. "You're one of them!" she breathed.

I wanted to ask "One of what?" but my fear and shock overwhelmed my curiosity. _This lady is clearly insane_, I decided, wanting to believe that instead of believing that she had seen something horrible in my future. I suddenly wanted to be far, far away from this room. My insides felt as cold as ice.

"Are we done?" I was glad my voice had recovered and I didn't sound like a cowering girl this time.

There was a moment of silence before she said, very calmly, "Yes."

She seemed recovered, her face a smooth mask that showed no hint of her outburst just a few seconds before. But her hands were shaking, even as she adjusted her skirt, and I wasn't fooled. Something had scared her, and I was too stunned and frightened, myself, to ask what.

Suddenly her voice sounded cheerful. "Expect a new change and maybe some internal struggles in your near future! Nothing to worry about!" she said to me, but as she quickly swept from the room I knew she had said it for everyone else's benefit, not mine. "Good night, everyone! I hope you ladies had a wonderful evening," she continued in her sing-song voice, wasting no time opening the front door and holding it open for us to exit through.

I walked out first, passing the other girls as they glanced up at me from their seats with expectant smiles on their faces, psychic magazines in hand. I couldn't help but notice in my peripheral vision that Lady Sage cringed back from me when I walked past her. I caught a few confused glances from the other girls just before I stepped out onto the porch into the muggy July heat. I could hear my sister and friends scrambling up out of their seats and murmuring their thanks as I waited, staring out toward the empty highway. How had she known I'd never had much of a love life? How had she known I played a lot of instruments? Those two predictions were so strangely accurate that someone before me must have told her them. Maybe I could brush her reading aside, but I'd never forget the look in her wide eyes when she had whispered, "A darkness approaches you. He is very close. Coming." I shivered involuntarily, though the air was uncomfortably thick and warm around me like an unwanted blanket.

When they were all out, surrounding me and whispering amongst themselves, the door slammed and one of the girls jumped and made a surprised yip. I heard, more than saw, the _Open_ neon sign in the window flicker and die as the plug was pulled.

"Wow, what was all that about?" asked one of Jessie's friends; I wasn't sure who.

"I feel like we just got kicked out of there," muttered Jessie. "Did that seem a little rude to you guys?" Good, someone else had noticed, and they all seemed a little less drunk.

I started walking toward the car, leading the way. "We definitely did just get kicked out of there," I agreed, then instantly regretted saying it.

My sister and her friend Maggie almost ran to catch up with me in their high heels while the others lagged behind. "What happened?" Jessie asked.

I ignored her question and asked one of my own. "Jessie, did you tell her I had never had a boyfriend?"

"No!" she exclaimed, almost missing a step, then walked more quickly to catch up to me. "I never said a thing about you!"

"She knew things," I said, giving her a hard look.

"She knew things about all of us," Jessie said defensively.

"What was she yelling about?" Maggie interjected, sounding a little too interested for my liking. "It got really quiet in there and all of the sudden it sounded like she yelled and there was a loud bang." Of course they would have heard Lady Sage yell and the chair falling, knocking over candles when she had jumped up. But I didn't want to explain.

"Nothing," I lied as I unlocked the doors to my sister's Toyota 4Runner and slipped into the driver's seat.

Jessie wouldn't let up. "Something happened in there," she said, sliding into the passenger seat next to me. "Tell me, Cara!"

I sighed loudly to buy myself more time. If I told them how weird she had acted and that apparently some dark presence was going to come into my life, I'd never hear the end of it. Every time I saw them, it would be "Have you experienced the dark presence yet?" That wouldn't be ideal, considering I wanted to forget about it. I wanted to forget about the fear I had felt when I was in that room.

"The noise was me," I said suddenly. "I thought I saw a bug."

"You thought you saw a bug?" Jessie repeated with barefaced skepticism. I could feel her stare as I checked the mirrors for something else to look at, so my eyes wouldn't give away my lie.

"Yes, just a bug," I said, flashing her the most innocent smile I could muster.

Everyone piled in the car then, their voices low and thick with sleepiness. I glanced back to make sure they were all wearing their seat belts before I pulled out of the gravel parking lot. Jessie looked away finally, and though she didn't believe my bug excuse, I think she was too tired to care.

As I pulled out of the parking spot, I felt the weight of someone's gaze on me and I took one last glance at the building. There was a finger pulling down on one of the blinds, just separating them enough for someone to peek an eye through and stare as we left. Another shiver escaped me and I drove away.


	2. Chapter 2

Two

The next morning I woke up on my parents' couch, sun streaming through the windows and lighting up the room. I haven't lived at my parents for a few years now and my room has been converted into Bruce's office, so here I was. The night before, we had left the psychic place so late that I hadn't wanted to drive home after dropping Jessie off.

I glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall. _Three thirty_. I rolled myself off of the couch, almost not believing the time.

"Hey, sweetheart," my mom chirped, and if my reflexes hadn't been so slow from grogginess, I would have jumped. "You've slept the whole day away!" Her blond hair was styled and her makeup had been carefully applied, not too much and not too little. Seriously, she's a total MILF. She walked past the couch and started flipping through a notebook, which I think was her "wedding organizer" she had made for my sister's wedding.

"Hi, Mom," I grumbled, feeling very aware of my disheveledness. "You should have woken me up earlier. I could have helped you with some of the wedding stuff."

"Honestly, there's nothing you could have done at this point. Well, I could have had you help me take the flowers to your aunt's, but I know you had a long night."

"Okay, well, I gotta get going." I tried to run my hands through my shoulder-length, sleep-tousled hair and was stopped by a few knots.

"You working tonight?" she asked as she laid her notepad on the kitchen counter and started scribbling down something.

"Yeah, at five."

"You don't have much time!" she said, turning back to me. "How was last night?"

"Awful," I said, walking into the bathroom just off the living room, leaving the door open.

"What, you don't like babysitting a bunch of drunk people?" she joked, somewhat yelling so I could hear her from the bathroom.

"No," I called back, turning on the sink and splashing some water on my face, then wiping it dry with a clean hand towel. "And that psychic place was bogus. The lady was such a…" the first word that came to my head was _bitch_, but I wouldn't say that in front of my mom. I know better. "Jerk," I finished.

She came up to the bathroom door and leaned on the doorframe. "Really? It wasn't fun? Your sister loved it!"

With the hand towel, I tried to remove the mascara that had fallen underneath my eyes, without much luck. "The lady tried to be all dramatic, playing the role of a perfect psychic with everyone else, especially for Jessie. But with me she just acted…weird."

"She didn't tell you you're about to meet the man of your dreams?" she teased. My mom had an irritating way of hinting that I needed to find a man to marry or at least date, but I was pretty used to it by now. Most parents hate when their children date, but I think my lack of dating was starting to worry her.

"Ha, you wish!" I said, dropping the towel in the sink and going past her to the kitchen, trying to make an escape.

"Oh, Cara," she sighed, not bothering to deny it.

I quickly tried to change the subject. "Apparently, I'm going to meet a dark presence or a demon in my near future—or something like that." I knew instantly that saying that was a mistake and I mentally kicked myself. A couple seconds of complete silence passed between us.

"Well, that's kind of scary. What if it's true?" The teasing tone was gone and she was all seriousness now.

"Mom," I said, going to the fridge for something to take and shooting her a look over the fridge door. "Not likely." I found some blueberry yogurt and a spoon, ready to make my exit.

She stopped in front of the kitchen passageway, casually blocking my way out. "Now, Cara…" she started. _Oh god, here it comes_, I thought. I squeezed by her, quickly kissed her forehead, and headed for the front door. She was on my heels immediately, trying to tell me some superstitious nonsense about evil spirits existing in the world according to _blah blah blah! _

My parents aren't active church-goers, but my grandparents on my mother's side were devout Christians, so because of whatever they filled her head with, my mother occasionally explodes into religious rants. If I didn't want to tell Jessie, I really didn't want to tell my mom, but it was too late now. She would start mulling over my ridiculous psychic reading, and I would never hear the end of it. _Damnit._

"Don't worry about it, seriously! Bye, Mom! See you tomorrow morning."

"I am _talking_ to you!" she said, irritation evident in her voice.

"Don't worry about any of that stuff. That lady was bat crazy! If I don't hurry up, I'm going to be late for work, Mom!"

She sighed. "Well, have a good day at work and be safe tonight."

"Thanks, Mom!" I said, and she shut the front door behind me. I hopped into my old white Honda Accord, started the engine, and put it in reverse when my mom came out the front door and started frantically waving.

I debated about just leaving, but thought better of it. I was possibly going to have to skip my shower before work and I really didn't want to do that. I rolled the window down and she came walking up to the car.

"Why don't you spend the night here tonight." It wasn't a question.

"Mom, the devil is not going to come after me," I said, my tone a little more disrespectful than I had intended.

"No, not because of that!" The look on her face showed that she was not amused. "I want you to get up bright and early and help me and your sister do the very last preparations and setting up for the wedding." That's right. My baby sister was going to be getting married tomorrow! I could hardly believe it was already happening.

"Okay, Mom, I guess I can do that. Now I've really got to go!"

"Okay, okay, just be safe tonight!"

I rolled up the window, put the AC on full blast, and almost peeled out of the driveway. I just had enough time to drive to my downtown apartment, take a shower and do a hurried version of my hair and makeup routine, which is pretty minimal to begin with.

Downtown Charleston is a unique place, where a lot of the buildings date back to the 18th, 17th, and even the 16th century. It's known for its rich history, well-preserved architecture, and its acclaimed restaurant community. All year round, horse and carriage rides go through the city, making it feel that you've really stepped back in time. Well, except when you look at the people: a mix of well-dressed yuppies, tennis-shoe wearing tourists, and tattooed twenty-somethings.

I live on King Street, probably the most well-known of the streets downtown. It has all those old houses and buildings dating back to previous centuries, but they've been filled with good restaurants and big name stores. At night, the restaurants close or turn into bars and nightclubs, and most often my sister is dragging me out to them. On Sundays people play music on the sidewalks, and every once in awhile someone will sit on the window ledge of a second-floor apartment and play the guitar for the people below. There is a farmers' market just down the block from me in the park, and sometimes I go and buy fresh fruit. It's a wonderful little town.

My apartment is a small two bedroom above a pizza parlor—my former place of work, actually, until I had to find a better paying job. The almost doubling in apartment costs at the beginning of the year gave me two options: find another apartment or get a higher-paying job. I love, love, love my apartment with its large window overlooking the busy street. My only qualm about my apartment is my roommate, Amber, who lives with me about eight months out of the year. She's a student at College of Charleston, but when she isn't going to school, she lives with her family in Michigan. I don't have any reason to not like her, but for reasons I cannot fathom, she seems to hate me. I try to be clean and respect her privacy, but every time we're forced to be near each other, I can see her aversion to me. The only thing I can think of is, she must not approve of my lifestyle. I don't think of myself as an excessive partier by any means, but I go out drinking with Jessie one night almost every weekend. From what I've gathered about Amber, she hates alcohol, but has never tried it. She stays inside and studies most nights, and I assume she's only happy if I'm not in the apartment.

Anyway, when at the beginning of the year I had to quit my job at Simon's Pizza, I found another job within walking distance of my apartment. Angel Oak, one of the best steak restaurants and definitely one of the more expensive in the area, hired me as a server by day and bartender by night. I don't love waitressing, but it pays the bills and I'd rather be self-reliant than work at my stepdad's concrete company.

As I hurriedly walked to Angel Oak that evening in the stifling summer heat, I was distracted. It started off like any normal night at Angel Oak. There was a large dinner crowd, as was the usual for a Saturday, but by ten o' clock it had died down. While half of the staff left for the night, I went from waitressing to bartending, but before I started working the bar, I went to take a quick bathroom break. I looked myself over in the bathroom mirror and sighed with disapproval at my appearance. I was wearing my work uniform: black shorts, black socks, black Nikes, and my white collared shirt with the Angel Oak restaurant logo on the breast. When I had bent over a table to clean it at some point during the evening, I had leaned into some mustard. I've already learned that mustard stains do not come out under any circumstances, so I would be buying a new shirt. After re-doing my ponytail that had fallen loose and washing my hands, I left the bathroom and headed straight for the bar.

"We might actually get some fucking customers, if the drink prices weren't so high," Liz said grudgingly, wiping the bar with a clean rag. Liz was the only waitress/bartender that I considered somewhat of a friend. We never really hung out outside of work, but we were buddy-buddy at the restaurant. Besides me, no one else liked her, even our manager, but she never got fired. I'm sure it had nothing to do with her work ethic and everything to do with her uncle owning the restaurant. Most of why the other waitresses don't like her is because she is gorgeous. She is tall, just a couple inches shorter than me, but she has this gracefulness and bone-deep sexiness that I definitely don't possess. Her hair is always the first thing you notice, almost waist length and raven black. Her second feature you notice is her eyes. They are big and gray and not in the stormy, muddy gray that some people have…they are crystal gray, bright and almost shocking amid her otherwise dark features. Her only physical flaw that I've ever noticed, and that's because I've heard the other waitresses laugh about it, is the small bump on her nose. But I think it's cute and damnit, you can't be absolutely perfect!

She is grumpy, antisocial, and just plain bitchy. But I like her.

"Yes, twenty-three dollars is a little steep for a martini," I muttered. Usually, I try to change the subject when she complains about the restaurant or at least try to word things carefully. No sense in getting myself fired just because she can't.

Liz had gone to get something from the back and I was putting away some wine glasses behind the bar when I perceived a customer at the corner of my eye. All I noticed from first glance was that he dressed nicely and had shoulder length, dark hair. I stopped what I was doing and I went to serve him.

"Hi, what can I get you…?" I said, my words faltering a little bit as he met my eyes. His eyes were a shocking shade of red, but as I stared at them, something else seemed odd about them. His pupils were in the shape of rectangles and made sideways slits across the reds of his eyes. I struggled to process what I was seeing, but I finally came to the conclusion that he wore red, goat-slitted contacts. They were the most unsettling contacts I'd ever seen.

"I'll have the dirty bloody Mary," he said, flashing a smile at me. I blinked and glanced away, realizing that I had been staring and too intensely.

"All right, coming right up," I said, putting my uneasiness aside as I tried to sound polite. As I made the drink, I couldn't resist glancing back up to get another look at him. He was looking down at a menu, and I could see a flash of red as his eyes darted around the page. As I stared, I wondered, _Is it Halloween already?_ No, it was July, I reminded myself.

When I placed the drink in front of him and he glanced back up me, I couldn't resist asking, "So, what's up with the crazy contacts?"

He froze. "W-what?" he stammered. It was hard to read his expression with those inhuman eyes staring back at me, but I think he was shocked.

"Your goat-like contacts," I said, stupefied.

"You…you can see my eyes?" He stammered again.

"Yeees," I said, slowly, staring at him dubiously. Was he serious? He looked as alarmed as I was at first seeing them, but that didn't make any sense. Did he literally not know he was wearing them? Was that even possible? He looked down suddenly and took the olive out of his drink, popping it quickly into his mouth.

"Yes, they're _contacts_…," he said while chewing, drawling out "contacts" in a strange way that I didn't understand.

I had thought my follow up question would ask if he was going to a costume party or why he was wearing them, but now it seemed irrelevant. He looked so disturbed and uncomfortable, I felt almost guilty for asking about them. "I hope you like your drink," I said. "Let me know if I can get you anything else."

"Thank you," he said, keeping his gaze down, and it seemed that he was looking at anything except me.

I went back to restocking the bar for a minute and when I looked up, he was gone and his drink was empty. I hadn't even given him his check, but he had left cash that more than covered it.

"Oh my god, that guy was so good looking." Liz was suddenly right at my shoulder. "You know I don't swoon much over men, but _my god_…" It's true, I had never heard her remark on any man's looks. I had wondered if she was interested in guys at all. Or the human race, for that matter.

"You really thought he was good looking?" I asked, wrinkling my nose.

"Uh, yeah, didn't you?" she asked, sweeping her hair in a way that somehow emanated sexuality.

"Well, I had a hard time not being creeped out by his eyes."

"What, they were pretty! I have no idea what color they were, but I just know they were gorgeous."

"He had red contacts in and they were super creepy," I said, making a face at her. Were we talking about the same guy?

She looked puzzled. "They were something light, but they didn't look like red to me. I thought they were blue or green, maybe."

"I don't know how you missed it," I said. "They were like crazy, fire-engine red."

After a moment of us scrutinizing each other, she shrugged. "Oh, well, whatever," she said, waving her hand as if to clear the air, dismissing my words. "He was serious eye candy. Too bad he was here for like five seconds… I can't say I blame him. He probably saw how expensive his drink was and ran."

I gave a half hearted laugh and got back to work.

Fortunately for my under-rested body, yet not so fortunate for my wallet, my manager let me off a few hours early. Regardless of how it would affect my pay, Jessie's wedding was going to require a lot of last minute tasks, and I was thankful for the extra hours I would get to sleep. As I walked the few blocks from work to the parking structure near my apartment, I cursed myself for not having parked in the employee parking lot. It wasn't just walking through the uncomfortable heat and humidity, though that always bothered me. Something else made me irritated and made the hair on the back of my neck stand at attention. It was a safe area on this side of downtown and there were a lot of passersby, yet for reasons I couldn't understand, I felt unsafe. I glanced around me every ten paces, peeking in every dark doorway and potential hiding place as I walked. I felt uneasy the whole drive to my parents' and even as I crawled onto their couch to go to sleep, the feeling stayed with me. I closed my eyes, wishing sleep to come, but still feeling uncomfortable as if feeling the weight of someone's eyes roaming along my skin. Finally, the feeling faded and my pretending to sleep became the real thing.


	3. Chapter 3

Three

My sister's wedding turned out beautifully. It was huge, extravagant, and it would probably take ten years for my parents to pay off. It didn't make any sense to me, or to Bruce for that matter, to have such a ridiculous wedding. But Jessie said it was perfect, and I couldn't argue that.

The few days following it were business as usual. I worked Monday and Tuesday, was off Wednesday, then went back to work on Thursday night.

"That guy was here again last night," Liz said, as she tied a little knot at the bottom of her collared shirt so it hung tight and showed a little strip of flesh.

"What guy?" I asked as I slid my purse underneath the bar.

"The gorgeous one. He was here for like three hours by himself. Not a very talkative guy…"

_ Oh, that guy, _I thought, remembering a very unsettling pair of red goat-slitted eyes. "Oh, really?" I said, mostly out of politeness rather than real interest.

"I tried to strike up conversation with him several times. Even flirt with him a bit. I'm pretty sure he's gay."

_ Just because he doesn't hit on you, doesn't mean he's gay_, I thought, but I knew better than to say that aloud. Truthfully, when men looked at the two of us bartending, they went straight for Liz with their tongues lolling out of their mouths and didn't take a second glance toward me. She was a horrible waitress, to say the very least. Even so, she had repeat costumers and a handful of steady admirers that seemed to frequent the bar with only the intention to woo her.

"I don't know if he's gay," I said, doubtfully. Very strange, yes. Gay, no.

"All the hot ones are either married or gay," she said, sighing wistfully.

"I'll have to take your word for it. I've never had a boyfriend."

Liz almost dropped the glass she was putting up behind the bar. She whirled around and looked at me. "What? How could you have never had a boyfriend?"

I shrugged. No one had shown real interest in me. My mom had gone through a phase a couple years ago where she constantly tried to make me over. She'd taken me to get spray tanned, replaced all my bras with push-up padded bras, bought me skimpy dresses, taken me to get my hair done, makeup done, _everything_. She had tried to turn me into a life-size Barbie, but it never seemed to make a difference. I never got hit on, and no one ever asked me out. I still try to look decent, don't get me wrong, but I try to look good to make myself feel good and not for anyone else at this point.

"You probably get asked out all of the time. You're pretty!" she said.

I wrinkled my nose and made a face that showed I didn't agree.

"Why haven't you ever dated anyone?" she pressed.

Ugh, was she going to make me say it? "I don't know," I said after a few seconds. "No one has ever shown real interest in me. Whenever I'm with my sister, they go straight for her. Whenever I'm here, they go straight for you! Or Beth, or Tracy," I said, naming other waitresses. I really didn't feel comfortable talking about this.

"Well, I'm sure you've been hit on and you're just too oblivious to see it."

I wished that were the case. "No one really interests me anyway," I said truthfully.

"Well, I'm going to take you out," she said. "You're off tomorrow, right?"

"Yes," I said, not liking where this was going. I didn't want to suffer the humiliation of going out for the sake of trying to get hit on _again_. I'd long accepted that it wasn't going to happen, or like my mom would say to try to cheer herself up, "It's just not the right time." I liked going out just for the sake of enjoying myself.

"We are going to meet at my house, get all gussied up, and go out. Do you like dancing?"

"I love dancing," I admitted. I loved music and anything to do with it, more than the average person.

"Well then, we are going to go out and dance and have a good time!" she said. "And we will mingle," she added and did a little wiggle with her eyebrows.

I laughed. "Okay, okay, it'll be fun."

"It'll be so much fun," she said.

I glanced over my shoulder and suddenly noticed _the guy_. Though he looked different than I remembered, he definitely had to be the same guy as a few nights before.

"Hi, I'm sorry, I didn't see you. What can I get you?" I asked.

His eyes were covered with dark shades, so I could absorb all his other features that I couldn't believe I had missed before. His black hair hung in loose waves around his shoulders, and it looked like it might be silky soft if you ran your fingers through it. His lips were fuller than average, and they were positively sultry. Despite the pouty lips and long hair, he was obviously male with a perfectly squared jaw line and broad shoulders. I felt as if I were looking into a chest-achingly gorgeous ad for sunglasses. I didn't usually want to stare so appreciatively at a man, but he was worth some dirty thoughts and ogling.

"No problem," he said, smiling, and even with his eyes hidden, I could tell it was a genuine smile. "I guess I'll get what I got last time. A dirty bl…"

"Dirty bloody Mary, right?" I finished with him and his smile broadened. I turned and started making it.

"So you ladies are going out tomorrow night, huh? I'm new to town, so where's a good place to go?" Oh god, he had been listening. I hoped that he hadn't heard our whole conversation.

"Not here," Liz said, leaning on the bar toward him. "Except to see the prettiest bartenders."

He seemed to glance at her, smile still intact, but then turned back to me as I served him his drink.

"Where do you like to go?" he asked me.

Liz stiffened and drew away when she realized she had been dismissed. At the corner of my eye I could see her going back to stocking the bar.

"Um…" I stammered. Wearing suit pants, a green collared button up, and what looked to be a Rolex watch on his left wrist, he didn't look like he'd want to go to the places I'd like to go. I liked to go to crowded, trashy places toward the less-nice side of town where I could dance to loud music or stand on the sidelines and blend in. I hated going to fancy wine bars where everyone just kind of stares at each other and listens to jazz. "Well, what kind of place are you looking for?"

"I like going to places where there's a lot of energy and good music," he said, sounding boyish in his enthusiasm. "Big crowded bars or dance clubs. I don't know, I guess it varies. Just as long as there is good energy."

I laughed. I couldn't help but find it humorous that he had picked the bar with the dim-lit romantic lighting, classical music, and almost no people in sight.

"What's so funny?" He asked, a light teasing in his voice.

"I'm sorry, I just think its funny that you picked the bar that least fits that description," I giggled. Shit, I actually giggled. What was happening to me?

"Yes, I did, didn't I?" He laughed too. "This isn't my kind of bar, but it does have _the _prettiest bartender."

For a split second, I thought he meant Liz, but as we stared at each other I knew otherwise.I awkwardly froze into place, unsure what to do with my hands suddenly. I felt as if my brain stopped producing coherent thoughts and before I could collect myself, our exchange became awkward.

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that," he said, looking down and shaking his head a little bit, seeming to laugh at himself.

"No!" I said, trying to salvage the situation. "Thank you, you are very nice. I'm just not used to being called pretty, I guess. Thank you." I tried to smile and look warm.

The short, carefree moment we had had between us was over. It seemed that in a blink of an eye, everything had changed. His easy posture became rigid and I could almost sense the air around us change, becoming heavier. His playful smile was transformed into a tight line, and I could see the hollow of his cheeks as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. He sighed suddenly, but it sounded like a frustrated sound through clenched teeth. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what had caused this sudden mood change. Was he mad at himself for flirting with me? Had I offended him? Nothing that had just happened should have caused a reaction like this in someone.

He pushed his untouched drink forward. "Know what, I'm in the mood for something else. Can you make my next drink Dom Pérignon?" He said it like it was supposed to sound: French.

"Yes, of course. Not a lot of people order that, but I think we do have some in the back." I was babbling. I had no idea where that was even kept, so instead of looking all over the place, I decided to go directly to my manager in his office. As I went, I shook my head, trying to figure out what had just happened. For the first time in my life, a handsome guy compliments me on my appearance, and I freeze up and ruin it. I must have offended him, somehow.

"Where is the Dom Pérignon?" I practically barked at Harrison.

He looked up from his computer, seeming to perk up at just the thought of a customer ordering one of the most expensive champagnes. "There are two bottles in the wine fridge. You've probably seen them a million times."

"Oh, thanks," I mumbled, kind of embarrassed, and headed back to the bar. I almost didn't want to go back, afraid that I'd do something wrong. _Again._

"It took me a minute to find it," I said, smiling at him as I tore the foil from the pretty champagne bottle. I noticed that his lips slightly moved like he was saying something underneath his breath… or maybe I imagined it? I didn't have time to question it, because when I looked back down to pop the cork, I saw blood pooling on the tip of my index finger. "Oh!" I said in surprise. I had cut my finger taking off the foil. "I'm sorry," I said, before I could think of anything else to say, stepping away to grab a paper towel.

"Are you okay?" he asked, leaning over the bar with genuine concern in his voice.

Liz was graceful enough for once to step in and help pop the cork and pour him a glass without being asked or complaining.

"Yes, I'm fine, just a little cut," I said, taking a piece of paper towel and holding it to my finger. Ugh, it wasn't like me to be so clumsy when it came to working the bar. This was embarrassing.

"I actually think I have a bandage," he said, going in his pockets. "Here, will you let me put it on you?" He suddenly was holding a little Band-Aid out to me.

It seemed like a strange request and I felt unprofessional letting a patron put a Band-Aid on me. At the same time I felt unprofessional by objecting. Hell, could it get any worse?

"Okay," I said uncertainly, coming back to the edge of the bar and showing him my index finger. He placed a Band-Aid on it and wrapped the sticky strip around my fingernail. He only barely touched me, but when I pulled away I could feel an electric current going from my finger to, well, down south.

He smiled at me.

"Enjoy your champagne," I said, smiling back. As silly as it sounded, I didn't want to say the name of the champagne in case I butchered it. I went to the bar's POS system and after a minute found Dom Pérignon. When it rang up for $60 dollars for a glass, I just stared at the screen for a moment, at first thinking I had rung up a bottle. But no, you could buy the bottle for $200. _Whoa Nelly!_

A group of four people came in suddenly, all talking at once, their voices loud. Drunk people. But _rich_, drunk people from the looks of designer clothes and shiny jewelry, so they had my manager's stamp of approval. One thing I didn't like about this job was that I was supposed to turn away people that didn't meet a certain dress code after the dinner hours. A steady stream of people came in after the drunk quartet and I was glad to have work to do to distract me. Slow nights were long nights and honestly, I didn't want a chance to further embarrass myself.

Long-haired-sunglasses moved from a middle seat at the bar to one in the corner so the party of people could group together. He sat silently, ordered one more glass of champagne, paid, and left.

The next morning I woke up slowly, or should I say the next afternoon. I never wake up in the mornings unless forced. Working at a bar will do that to you.

One of my first thoughts was Long-haired-sunglasses at the bar. Oh, he had been gorgeous. I hoped he would come back, though I cursed myself for even thinking it. He had called me "the prettiest bartender," hadn't he? It was okay to think dreamy thoughts of him, right? It didn't matter. I couldn't help myself.

I looked at my finger as if to make sure that it hadn't been a dream. The Band-Aid was gone, but the small cut was there. I looked around, running my hands around me, trying to find the missing Band-Aid. Where had it gone? _Oh well, _I thought. _It'll turn up when I get out of bed. _I snuggled in my sheets, allowing myself to think about him a little longer.

When I finally got out of bed, spots flashed in front of my eyes and I braced myself not to fall from dizziness. I stood there for a second, willing my head to clear, but the spots didn't leave. I blinked slowly a few times. There were two small red spots in my vision. They weren't blurry blind spots as I had first thought, but just two tiny areas of my eyesight that were tinted red.

"What the hell?" I muttered to myself.

I walked slowly out of my bedroom to where the small dining area and kitchen were. The only thing that separates the kitchen from the dining space is a counter. The spots were slightly unsettling to me, but they didn't seem like an immediate hazard. At least I could walk around the room without falling down. I went to the front door where I had dropped my purse the previous night and fished out my cell phone, speed-dialing my mom.

"Hey, honey."

"Hey, Mom," I said. "Something is going on with my eyes—"

"Something's going on with your eyes?" she interrupted. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I can see okay, but there are two red dots in my vision. I was just wondering if I could get the number to your eye doctor." I was walking past the bathroom, holding the phone to one ear, when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Something in my reflection looked strange, and I froze. I walked into the bathroom to get a better look, turned on the light, and took a closer look at myself in the mirror. The closer I got to the mirror, the more the red dots seemed to get to the middle of my face. But if I backed up at just the right spot, the red spots hovered over to where my eyes were in the mirror. At that spot, my eyes looked like they were glowing fire engine red.

The memory of red sideways slitted eyes flooded back up and I suddenly felt sick to my stomach. My mom was babbling, and I hadn't heard a word she was saying.

"Mom, do you think I can get an eye doctor's appointment _today_?" I interrupted her. I had a sinking feeling that this was something an eye doctor couldn't take care of, but I should see one before I let myself officially freak out.

"Maybe," she said slowly, sounding suspicious. "I'll give you the number and you can find out." When she gave me the number, I barked out a goodbye and got off the phone faster than was polite.

I stared at my evil twin in the mirror for a moment, wondering what this meant. _What had that Lady Sage said last Friday? That I would meet a demonic presence from hell? _Did she mean a literal demon, or did that just mean an evil person? I wanted to call her or go to her place to try to get more information, but she had almost kicked me out and said I was "one of them." Had she predicted that this would happen, whatever was happening to my eyesight? Was I becoming what that man at the bar was, whatever he was? I thought about the goat-slitted eyes and shuddered. I finally had to look away from the mirror, because the sight was too unsettling. For some reason I thought that when I looked away, the red dots would stay in the mirror, but they followed my gaze with every move.


	4. Chapter 4

Four

A few hours later I came out of the eye doctor's with a stamp of perfect eye health. _Sure._

As I slid into my little car, I tossed the receipt and an eye-care pamphlet into the backseat and let out a sigh. I had been able to get an eye appointment almost immediately on James Island, a town in the Charleston County. It had been a different eye doctor than my family usually used, but what mattered is that he could see me quickly. He hadn't been able to detect anything, but he had recommended a neuro-ophthalmologist that could give me further testing if the "issue persisted." I hadn't expected him to find anything, but I had hoped he would. It would be a relief to hear that it was just something normal. A stigmatism, a retinal disorder—_I don't know! _Something with an easy explanation.

I thought about canceling with Liz, but then thought better of it. Sitting by myself alone and mulling this over with nothing to distract me seemed like a bad idea. I would go out and try to enjoy myself.

I went back to my apartment, gathered a few dresses and low-heeled shoes and threw them in an overnight bag. I never wore high-heels, because there was no sense in making myself taller than absolutely _everyone _else.

Liz also lived on King Street, a mile away from me toward the even nicer side of downtown. King Street is a very long street, going from one side of downtown to the other. On one end there are the million-dollar homes and a park overlooking the Charleston Harbor. On the other end are low income houses, strip clubs, and warehouses. That is not where you want to be walking come nightfall. I live about a mile from the Harbor where the nice houses come to an end and the line of shops, restaurants, and apartments starts.

I could walk to Liz's house, but only if I wanted to arrive dripping with sweat. It was about 90 degrees outside with about enough humidity to swim through. Not ideal weather to walk a mile in. I parked on what the locals call _the Battery_, the street running along the Harbor, and walked the block up to her house.

All of the houses had beautiful and interesting architecture on this side of the street, but when I came across her house, my mouth fell open. I had partially expected her house to be one of the very few in that neighborhood that was broken up into apartments or looked slightly shabby with a violation notice taped to the front door. This house was _not_ one of those houses. It was a three-story white house, skinny across the front, but extending quite a ways back. Houses on this street are generally really skinny, because in the 1700s, your taxes were based on how wide the front of your house was along the street. Though it had that old-Charleston charm with its familiar architecture, flower boxes bursting with flowers in the lower windows, and a gas light fixture above the front door, the house looked newly updated and maybe newly painted. I took the step up to the door and opened it, knowing it would open up onto a long porch alongside the house before I saw it. The porch looked like a perfect place to lounge if it were a cooler day. A cute little iron table with a glass top, along with two matching iron chairs, sat in the far corner. A vase full of yellow daises decorated the table, along with an overflowing ashtray of cigarettes. If I'd had any doubts that I had come to the right place, the overflowing ashtray squashed them.

From the porch I could see her small, manicured yard and a black Cadillac sedan in the driveway. I knocked on the front door as I stared admiringly at the shiny, black car and wondered whose it was. It looked expensive, but so was this house.

Only a couple seconds passed before Liz was at the door. "Hello," she said, smiling for just a second before her face smoothed out into a serious mask. She never holds a smile for long, I realized.

"Hi," I said, adjusting my bag over my shoulder.

"Come in," she said, walking away and leaving me standing at the front door. I quickly followed her inside and shut the door behind me. In front of me was a flight of stairs going to the second floor. Liz took off without another word into a short hallway to my left that appeared to open up into a room, but I couldn't resist taking a quick peek in the open doorway to my right. It was a beautiful living room like a spread from _Homes and Gardens_ magazine. Both the dark wood flooring and the red brick fireplace looked old and might've been original features of the house. The modern white and gray furniture didn't exactly match the older elements of the room, but it somehow meshed perfectly. A large framed black and white photo of Liz hung above the fireplace. She appeared to be topless, her back to the camera, peering over her shoulder with a intense look in her bright eyes, dark hair flowing down her back. The photo reminded me of one of those National Geographic photos; a naked young woman with eyes so penetrating they seemed to see you right through the photo. It was a stunning picture, but it was an interesting choice of decoration for the first room you'd see in the house.

"Come over here in the kitchen!" she yelled, her voice traveling down the hallway with an echo. I followed in that direction and came into an open kitchen. The color scheme matched the living room, all white, besides the dark wood flooring and some silver touches here and there. Along the back wall were a fridge, counters, and cabinets; nearby stood a marble top island counter, grey and silver designs throughout it. On the opposite side of the room, underneath the front windows with a view of the street, sat a small breakfast nook.

"Wow, this place is amazing," I said.

Liz had a cigarette to her lips and a lighter in her hand. "Thank you," she said, the cigarette muffling her words as she lit it. "You can set your stuff anywhere for now," she said, blowing smoke.

I set my bag against the wall and slid into the breakfast nook. "So who do you live here with?" I asked.

"Myself." She leaned over the island counter, cocking an eyebrow, and seemed to judge the look on my face.

"This place is all yours?" I gasped, hardly able to believe it. This house was probably worth three million dollars, at least.

"Yes. It's mine. You look like you're gonna shit yourself." Leave it to Liz to be graceful.

"Sorry, I just can't believe you can afford something like this. I'm struggling to share an apartment with another person! I wouldn't expect someone our age to be able to live somewhere like this."

"Well, I'm older than you. I'm twenty-nine. But yeah, I think I am one of the youngest, if not _the_ youngest, owners here."

She wasn't even a renter, but an _owner_! "Wow," I said again. "How could you afford this?" I realized a little too late that saying that might be rude.

She held the cigarette with only her lips as she grabbed an opened bottle of red wine from the counter and snatched two wine glasses that hung upside down on one of those under-the-cabinet wine glass holders. "Well, I didn't earn it by working at Angel Oak," she said, though that was a given. She took the cigarette out of her mouth and held it to the side as she poured the wine. She moved around like the lovely lead in her own '60s film, somehow managing to make smoking look sexy. "It's really a long story." She pushed one glass toward me and I sat up to retrieve it. We faced each other from opposite sides of the island counter.

I wanted to ask her to tell me, but she seemed uneasy and I didn't want to scare her off the subject. "If it's too private, you don't have to tell me," I said, reassuringly. Always best not to act too eager when someone's about to tell you a secret. I took a sip of my wine and made an appreciative _mmm_ sound. It was just the right combination of sweet and dry that I preferred.

"Well, I used to model…"

"Yeah, I saw the picture in the living room! It's gorgeous."

"Thank you," she said, smiling for a moment. "Yeah, so I used to model and I got married to a photographer. I feel like it sounds a little creepy when I tell the story, like he was some skeezeball photographer that made me his pet project, but that's kind of how it started." She seemed to not know how to continue for a moment and glanced over her shoulder. At first, I thought she might be trying to hide an onset of tears. Then I realized she was looking back at a white picture frame standing up by the sink.

"Is that him?" I asked.

She reached behind her and brought the picture to where I could see it, standing it up on the island counter. She nodded and smiled, but it wasn't a happy smile. "I had been in modeling for a couple years, but I hadn't gotten very far in the industry. I was in the LA fashion week and had a few little odd jobs here and there, but nothing big. When I was eighteen I finally got a job with my first big line, and my photographer was _Jason Black_." She made his name come out like a sad sigh. "He was older than me. He was twenty-seven and I was only eighteen when we met—so there was a nine year gap there—but I was instantly in love." She took her cigarette and stubbed it out onto an ashtray that she had pulled from some hiding spot behind the counter. "His name was just becoming well known in the industry, and he was hired for this big line and that big line. I was his muse, he would tell me, and we took tons of pictures all over the world. I started getting more runway, more designer lines, and we just kind of followed each other around the world, back and forth. It was mostly me going where he went, but yeah, point is we both had a lot of work and it was exciting."

I was leaning into the picture as she talked. It was a picture of the two of them with a city landscape behind them that was unfamiliar to me. "Wow, he's really handsome." And that was the truth. He looked American Indian with golden brown skin and long black hair. He looked like he was used to smiling and being in the sun by the looks of the little crow's feet by his eyes, but they were handsome and distinguishing. She had much shorter hair in the picture, just past chin length, but otherwise looked the same. Her current hair looked a lot like his had, and I wondered if that was coincidence.

She looked into her glass and smiled wistfully. "We got married almost immediately after meeting," she continued. "He was on his way home from the airport when he got in an accident. The police came to my door and just like that, it was all over." She took a few more swigs and drained her glass. "We had just celebrated our seven year wedding anniversary, and I was suddenly a widow at twenty-five years old."

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. That's just awful." Lame, I know, but I couldn't think of anything better to say.

"Yeah, it was really awful," she agreed. "We had decent money and he had a great life insurance policy, so when he passed I was financially set. I'm okay now, sort of, but I was a wreck for a long time. I still feel like I'm just going through the motions to get through life."

"I bet," I said, frowning. My romance-less twenty-three years of existence suddenly seemed a lot less depressing. They say it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, but in this case, whoever said that was wrong. All the mean things other waitresses at Angel Oak said about Liz suddenly crossed my mind, and that made me glad we were hanging out now. Perhaps I wasn't the only one that needed a friend.

"Yeah," she sighed, pouring herself another glass. "But that's not even the end of it."

"Tell me," I said, letting all my curiosity show.

"I…" she seemed to not know how to continue for a second. "I started getting into drugs." She paused, as if attempting to judge my reaction. When she was satisfied with my non-judgmental expression, she continued. "After Jason died, I continued to work, because I didn't know what else to do with myself. As you probably know, there is a lot of pressure to do drugs in the modeling industry. I'm glad that Jason was so smart with money and put it into a trust fund, or else I would have spent it all. After he was gone, I just didn't care about anything anymore. I got really into cocaine for awhile before I moved up to heroin. A year after he died, my parents and my brother came up to New York, where I was living, and convinced me to go to rehab. I went to rehab in North Carolina for a few months and then went home with them. They're here in Charleston, so I stayed with them for awhile and eventually moved out and bought this place," she said, looking at the ceiling and surroundings like she was coming back to the present. "Now I work at Angel Oak to take up time and distract myself. As I'm sure you know, my uncle owns the restaurant, and I think my parents convinced him to hire me. Pretty sure he's regretting that now!" She let out a half-hearted laugh.

"Oh, I'm sure he's not," I said, trying to reassure her.

She gave me a knowing look. "Don't try to be so nice; you know it's true. No one likes me there, except you. I need a new job, because I really can't stand that place. I really need to be doing something I _like_ to do."

I nodded, understanding. "Angel Oak is definitely not my life's calling."

"Too bad no one will hire me to smoke cigarettes and drink wine." We laughed and Liz poured more wine in our glasses. I was going to be drunk, but we wouldn't have to drive anywhere if we didn't want to, so it was all right.

"We should start getting ready," I said. _Before this wine hits me and I give myself clown makeup_, I thought. It wouldn't be the first time.

"All right, let's go upstairs. Bring your stuff up." She started walking out of the kitchen and made a jerk of her head to signal me to follow. I held the wine glass in one hand and scooped up my night bag in the other. The old floorboards creaked and groaned as we walked through the hall and up the stairs. The first room she led me into was a huge bedroom with a large bay window overlooking the street. The walls were black, which I would have thought was a bad color to paint a room because it could make the space look small, but this room couldn't have that problem. She had a king size bed with a large, intricate frame, all white except for gold detailed pillows. An extravagant gold mirror took up a good portion of wall space and a large flat screen TV took up another. Everything was in shades of black, white, or gold and though it was luxurious, it didn't look particularly inviting or comfortable. It somehow seemed unlived in, perfectly clean except for a pile of clothes lying on the bed. There were no family photos, no personal jewelry hanging, or anything homey you might expect to see.

"Your house is beautiful," I admitted.

"Thanks, I had an interior decorator help me."

I still had a hard time believing Liz could afford this house and these expensive furniture pieces. She never had even hinted that she had money, but I suppose if you have money, you may not want people to know. I had no personal experience with that.

"I wanted to see if you wanted any of these dresses," Liz said, going to her bed and laying some of the clothes out so I could see them. From what I could tell, they were from expensive designer clothing lines. "I have gained a few pounds since my recovery and I can't fit in them."

If she had gained a few pounds, then she must have needed to, because she was slim. Not thin and shapeless like a rail as I am, but thin and with curves where you want them. I traced the beading on a gorgeous red dress that I was instantly drawn to, admiring the details. The nude colored fabric at the top was very sheer to give the effect of bare back and shoulders. Red lace flowers were expertly placed to cover what needed to be covered, concealing more flesh as it went down to where it ended at knee-length. I had no idea where I could wear it and I doubted I could pull it off, but it was the most beautiful dress I'd ever seen. I wanted to tell her that I couldn't accept it, that it looked too expensive, but I wanted it.

The other two dresses looked expensive, one black and covered in sequins and the other similar to the first, except green and much shorter with a slimmer fit. If the red one was revealing, the green one was scandalous.

"These look so expensive. Are you sure?" I asked, nearly holding my breath.

"Please take them. I really won't wear them again," she said. "I will have to go through my closet and see if I find anything else I can't fit into."

"Thanks for thinking of me," I said, folding and laying the dresses next to my overnight duffel bag as gently as possible.

"Of course," she said, shrugging. "Now if you want to put your makeup on, the bathroom has the best lighting." She pushed open a door attached to her bedroom and revealed a bathroom as extravagant as the bedroom. The first thing my eyes were drawn to was a white claw foot bathtub with a gold spout and hot and cold nozzles. There was a small gold and crystal chandelier, a gold mirror, and a white marble washstand with gray swirls in it, also with a gold spout and nozzles. It wasn't a huge bathroom, but it was lovely. The only thing that stood out of place was a big, purple cosmetic bag by the sink.

"We will have to squeeze next to each other. Hope you don't mind."

"Of course not. Your bathroom is actually about the size of my bedroom," I admitted sheepishly.

"Really?" she exclaimed, eyebrows raised.

I nodded and retrieved my own cosmetic bag as she rummaged through hers. As I applied my makeup, Liz concentrated more on consuming red wine. She put on some makeup, though: mascara, powder, and a dab of lip gloss. She's one of the few girls that only needs the most minimal makeup to look perfect. I, on the other hand, put on purple eye shadow, which I've been told brightens up brown eyes. Sure, I don't really have brown eyes, but black, but I guess that's close enough. Also, concealer on the recently darkened circles under my eyes, mascara, lip gloss, bronzer, and a little bit of blush to give me some color. I frowned at my reflection, realizing I'd put on a little too much blush.

"So that good looking guy that's been showing up at the bar seems to like you," she said nonchalantly.

"Dude!" I exclaimed, and as that came out of my mouth, I knew I was beginning to feel the wine. "I have a crazy story to tell you." As I rubbed my cheeks to get rid of the excess blush, I proceeded to tell her about Lady Sage's warning, the red dots in my eyesight, and my fears about the whole bit being part of her prediction. By the end, Liz was staring wide-eyed at me.

"Whoa, that's a crazy story," she admitted. "And you think this guy that's been showing up at the bar could be the demonic presence that psychic lady was talking about?"

"I don't know," I confessed. "As crazy as it sounds, I think so."

"I don't know about demonic presences, but he is gorgeous enough to be the devil himself," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder and running a brush through it. "You know you gotta call this psychic lady, right?"

"I do?" I asked doubtfully. Though I had thought of calling her myself, the thought of actually doing it did not appeal to me. "No, I don't think so," I said decidedly.

"Uh, yeah, you do!" she said, pointing her brush at my reflection in the mirror. "What you're telling me is just too strange not to try to figure out. You have to have another reading."

"Yeeeaaah…" I said in way that meant _no_. "But that lady doesn't like me."

"Maybe she doesn't, who knows," Liz shrugged. "But you have some questions that need answering. And what's the harm in just calling? Worst thing she can say is no, she won't see you."

"True," I admitted, considering it.

"What's the place called again?" she asked, exchanging her brush for her cell phone.

"Sage's Psychic Center, or something," I said, assuming she was looking up reviews or pictures of the building.

"Got the number!" she exclaimed after a moment, shoving the phone at my face. A loud ring came from the phone, notifying me that she had already dialed the number and it was on speaker.

"Why did you do that?" I hissed.

"Come on, you have to!" she urged.

"Lady Sage's Psychic Readings, this is Tansy, how may I help you?" said a very bored female voice.

"Hi, uh," I started. "I came about a week ago with a bachelorette party. My reading seems to have been accurate, and I just want to know if I can get another appointment…" I let my words trail off.

Silence for a moment. "Is your name Cara Hansen?" The voice suddenly had a lilt of excitement to it.

Liz and I met each other's wide eyes. "Uh, y-yes, it is," I stammered.

"Lady Sage said you would be calling back. If you don't mind, I would like to take your appointment."

_She had said I would call back? _I hadn't even planned on calling and if it weren't for Liz, I probably never would have. "Well, I would really like to get an appointment with her, no offense. I feel like it might be counterproductive going to someone else after I feel like her reading was accurate."

Silence for a second. "To be perfectly honest, Cara, Lady Sage has given me strict orders not to let you come back here or make an appointment with you. I'm only doing this because I am personally interested in your, er, situation. If you don't want to make an appointment with me, you're on your own."

I paused, considering this. Maybe I wanted to deal with this on my own. Or ignore it and try to forget about it? I liked that idea.

"Okay, when's a good time?" Liz piped in and I tried to swat her away. She belted out a laugh and dodged my hand.

"It'll have to be on one of her nights off," the feminine voice answered. "How about tomorrow at 10 o' clock PM?"

"I'll be working," I said shortly.

"I'll take your shift, I'll take your shift!" Liz whispered, just about jumping up and down with excitement.

"Never mind, I can come," I mumbled, shooting Liz an exasperated look.

"Good. And just so you know, Cara, I may not be able to predict your future or use flashy cards, but I have gifts of my own. I think what you're going through is more of my expertise."

I wanted to ask her what her expertise was, but before I could say anything, she said, "See you at your appointment. I'll be looking forward to your arrival." _Click_.

"I'm starting to really believe that something weird _is _happening to you," Liz said, taking back her phone. "I kind of want to see if someone else will take your shift tomorrow. Would you let me go with you if I can get someone else to cover it?"

"Yeah, I guess," I grumbled. "If I'm going to be subjected to this torture, you should have to suffer with me."

Suddenly a text message sound rang out and Liz tapped at her phone's screen. She pushed her phone in front of my face again and I caught her strange, wide-eyed expression before focusing on the text. "Oh yeah, and please come alone," I read.

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	5. Chapter 5

Five

The next morning I woke up on Liz's large white bed. At first I couldn't put the pieces together. I only vaguely remembered the cab picking us back up after the club. I had drunk way too much, and Liz had drunk a lot more. I glanced over and saw her, head and one arm sticking out from underneath the blankets. She was still passed out.

It had been a really fun night. We had taken a cab ten blocks away to SINergy, one of the newer nightclubs downtown. Fortunately for me, Liz had forgotten that she had dragged me out to get hit on by guys, and for a few hours I had forgotten all of my worries. Maybe it was the alcohol or the flashing lights at the dance club, but I forgot about the red pinpricks in my vision. Now they were back in full force.

I caught a whiff of cigarette stench on my hair and made a face. I didn't smoke, but Liz had smoked all around me and I reeked of it. I really needed a shower. I rolled out of bed, gathered my things together, and left the house. The sun was more painfully bright than usual and I checked the time. One o' clock. Before I walked away I took one last glance up at the house, and my mouth dropped open again. A lone window I hadn't noticed before made the house look like it might even be four stories, unless it was an attic window. Above the long porch going alongside the house was an equally long balcony. Some kind of vine with yellow flowers snaked up from behind the house and clung to the balcony's ledges. _Gorgeous, _I thought.

As I walked to my car, I felt very conscious of my unkempt appearance in my oversized t-shirt, cotton shorts, and head topped with a slept in-bun. When I got home, I took a hot shower and washed the stale cigarette stench out of my hair; then clad in a towel, I went to my bedroom to throw on something to wear. My room was unbearably hot with the sun shining through the windows onto the wooden floor. The building was so old and poorly insulated that the air conditioning found a way to escape, making it a furnace in the summer. I slid into a pair of jean cut-off shorts and a thin, black tank top. Normally I'd be going to work in a few hours, but with Liz taking my shift I had half the day to kill. Turning back toward my bedroom, I realized I didn't know what to do with myself. It was Saturday and sometimes I'd go to the farmer's market, but it was too late in the day for that. Jessie was still on her honeymoon for one more day, so I couldn't invite her to do anything. If I watched a movie or read a book, the red pin pricks in my vision would distract me and I didn't want to think about what they could mean. _Were they getting brighter or was the effect somehow induced by my hangover? _I wondered.

I grabbed my guitar for something to distract me and settled on the bed. With the guitar laying against my stomach, I closed my eyes, my fingertips knowing where every string and fret was. The only sound in the room was the whirring of the fan that's only purpose seemed to be to move the hot air around. When I started playing, my strums filled the room, making the space feel less empty and lonely. It had been a little while since I had played, but as I did, I felt that familiar feeling of peace and wholeness. That is, until I noticed the red pin-pricks. I could have sworn they hadn't been visible when I'd had my eyes closed before, but there they were, bright against the dimness behind my eyelids. They looked like two eyes peering at me in the dark, and with that thought came the almost itchy sensation on my skin that I was being watched. I paused, my fingers freezing in place, the music dying out. The sensation that someone was in the room and close by was so strong that I almost expected to feel someone's breath on my face. If I opened my eyes, I felt certain that someone would be hovering right above me.

I forced my eyes open and looked up at the cracked, painted ceiling. Nothing was there except the two inescapable red dots in my vision and the feeling that I was being watched.

I felt nervous excitement fill me as I drove to Lady Sage's Psychic Center. As I drove, I suddenly realized I was biting my nails and quickly yanked my hand away from my teeth. I had naturally strong fingernails that I kept long, even, and neatly painted—that being one of the few things I liked about my appearance—and I hadn't chewed on them in a very long time. I wouldn't let myself start now.

When I walked inside, the harsh fluorescent lights that buzzed overhead were strangely comforting. Though candles are usually nice and relaxing, the way Lady Sage had nearly stacked them on top of each other was not soothing to me. I wasn't in the mood tonight for spookiness and theatrics. I just wanted to hear the truth behind Lady Sage's reading and nothing more.

"Hello," the girl behind the counter said as she pulled her gaze from a computer screen. She was a tiny little girl with dramatically-cut, black hair in a sort of Cleopatra-style, cut just above her shoulders with blunt bangs that stopped in the middle of her forehead. She wore heavy black eyeliner, a black T-shirt that said "zombie" in a pink font I recognized as the Barbie logo, and a black hoop septum piercing. I couldn't be sure of her age, but I would have guessed she was younger than me, yet too old to be in high school.

"Hi, I'm Cara," I said, smiling.

"I'm Tansy. Glad you could come," she replied, coming around the desk to meet me. I thought she was going in for a handshake, but I was surprised when she came in for a hug instead. I had to stoop to hug her back and I felt extremely awkward as I did, not being accustomed to hugging complete strangers. She gave me a couple pats on the back before she drew away.

Tansy's short stature was where any similarities between her and Lady Sage stopped. She must have been under five feet, because even wearing black platform boots with more straps than a straitjacket, she was still about a foot shorter than me. Her arms were covered in black tattoos, and though I don't know much about tattoos, to me they looked like amateur work done in someone's basement. I couldn't exactly pick out what any of them were from first glance, but they appeared to be script and symbols in a different language. She was fair skinned and had large, doe-like blue eyes. I couldn't decide if her dark makeup accentuated or decreased her beauty, making those doe-like eyes stand out as much as they did. All things considered, I thought she might be a very pretty, dainty girl if her look had been more natural. I got the impression that she was one of those small girls who wouldn't appreciate being called cute, but no matter how tough they tried to make themselves, you still couldn't help but think: _cute_.

"Sorry, I just feel like I already know you, because Lady Sage told me so much about you," she said excitedly. "You look different than I imagined."

I didn't know what to think about that and I self-consciously looked down. "Why would Lady Sage tell you so much about me?" I asked, bemused.

"Honestly, we don't get a lot of interesting people coming in here," she admitted. "All of our readings are very boring past, present, and future readings. Lady Sage is especially adamant about keeping things quick and to the point. So for her to tell me that someone was unique and the reading didn't go as she planned, I knew something was up. She didn't tell me so much about you, as I tried to get information out of her."

I opened my mouth to ask more, but Tansy waved her little hand as if to dismiss any further questions. "Let's get started!" she exclaimed, motioning me into the small closet-like room that Lady Sage had done her readings in. I went into the room, like she asked, and sat in the same chair as before. With the illumination of one naked light bulb above our heads, I realized that without a doubt it was an ordinary closet stuffed with a zillion unlit candles, no longer mystical.

"Wait, hold on," she said and left the room. I wasn't sure, but it sounded like she locked the front door.

"I do things a lot differently than Lady Sage," she said, coming back and taking her seat. She pulled out a small notepad and pen from her pocket and set them on the table before flipping to a blank page. "For one thing, I don't do any bullshit. Lady Sage might have used your full name for example?" she asked, absentmindedly fiddling with her pen.

"Yes, she did," I admitted.

"You won't believe how many people that make appointments here, post about it on one of the social media sites and tag their friends in it. All Lady Sage has to do is look up the person who made the appointment and _bam!_ From that point, you can find everyone coming to the session and find a lot of things about them from there. It's so easy, it's almost criminal."

I gaped at her, showing my surprise. I had originally come with no expectation of any of it being real, yes, but I wouldn't have dreamed that Lady Sage would perform a background check on me. I could see now how she would have figured out my lack of a love life and my background with music. There were a few social sites where I had a profile, and I made a mental note to set those profiles to private when I got home.

"I feel like she practices more on how to be a scam artist than actually practice her craft," she continued, tucking a few dyed black strands of hair behind her ear, revealing a row of silver hoop earrings. "But she isn't totally fake, in her defense. She does have a natural ability to read people's personalities, and she sometimes gets visions that are crazy accurate."

"Now as for me," she went on. "I am a witch. I am a spiritual person and practice my craft daily, and that is where my ability comes from. I can't read futures so much as I can help guide people's futures. I can give good luck charms and lift hexes and things like that. I can speak to the spirits, too, but they don't tell me people's futures per se. They might tell me something currently going on with you that might impel me to give you advice, but they don't tell me your future. My understanding is that they don't want you to know your future." It sounded like it was a practiced speech and she had said it a million times. Then she added in a hushed tone, "I can also do some less than acceptable stuff, but I don't practice dark arts, I just study it. Lady Sage doesn't approve of a lot of my techniques. She doesn't seem to like me doing any kind of spells or charms."

"So even in the psychic world, psychics judge other psychics?" I asked lightly. Even though I didn't believe in what she was saying, more specifically the talking-to-spirits bit and her being a witch, I found myself wanting her to like me.

"Ridiculous, right?" She beamed at me. "I guess no matter who you are, you're never free from judgment. Okay, let's get down to business. Tell me what Lady Sage told you. I don't think she told me everything, so I just want to get a clear picture of what happened."

"Okay," I started. "From what I remember, she said that I am musically inclined, which is true. She also knew that I'd never had a love life or a lot of friends…" I hated admitting it, but it was also true.

She made a curious _hmm_ sound and scribbled something on her blank page. "What is your real name, Cara?"

"My real name?" I asked, confused by the change of subject.

"Lady Sage told me your name is Cara Hansen, but that's not the name I'm getting. The spirits are giving me another name…" She started writing again, a look of pure concentration on her face as she wrote.

I shook my head. "Cara is my real name," I said, wondering at such a strange question.

She looked up from her scribbled piece of paper to look directly in my eyes. "I have this name," she said, turning her small notepad toward me so I could see it.

_ Carus Carminis, _it read.

Goosebumps erupted on my legs and arms as I recognized the name. "I… I had almost forgotten about that," I stammered. "That was the original name my mom put on my birth certificate. She told me she didn't know what possessed her to name me that, except maybe the systemic painkillers she was given in labor. My name was supposed to be Ashley Marie, but after seeing Carus Carminis on my birth certificate, she decided to rename me Cara Marie a couple weeks after my birth." I was almost babbling at that point, but I was so taken aback.

"Wow, _I'm_ even shocked a little bit. I wonder why that was important for me to know," she said, then shivered.

"That is so weird," I breathed, still in shock. I believed in her now. I wasn't sure what kind of abilities she had, but she definitely had something. No one should have known that, unless they knew my parents personally or did _very_ extensive research on me—more than just social networking sites.

"Very weird," she agreed, though she didn't seem nearly as shook up as I was. "What else do you remember from the session?" she continued.

I shook my head again, trying to clear my mind. "Everything seemed accurate and kind of fun until she read the cards that supposedly told my future. The death card and the devil card…"

"Yes and that's probably when she saw that you didn't have a visible aura," Tansy said, nodding.

I stared at her blankly, not sure what she meant by that.

She stared back for a moment, then blinked those big doe eyes at me. "You know—an aura?"

I shook my head again.

"It's the electromagnetic energy surrounding your body. Every living thing has one, or is supposed to have one, but not many people can see them. Depending on a person's type of soul, whether they have a sensitive or a selfish soul, or whatever, it projects different colors. It's almost like a soul fingerprint. Lady Sage told me that she couldn't see your aura, which surprised her, because she's never _not_ been able to read someone's aura before. That's what was so interesting about you."

"So, what does that mean—that she couldn't see mine?" I asked.

"I personally can't see them, so I only know what I've heard on that subject," she said slowly, as if preparing me for what she would say next. "But Lady Sage thinks that you don't have a soul."

I froze still, not daring to breathe as I tried to absorb this information. I had a soul. I had a personality, feelings, a conscience—you had to have those to have a soul, _right?_

"I don't believe that, though," Tansy said, waving her pen around as she talked. "I think you may have some special abilities, maybe one of those being to shield your aura from others. I've never heard of it, but hey, weirder things have happened."

_Me, have special abilities like shielding my soul?_ I tried to make sense of that. Though I liked that idea better than not having a soul, they both sounded crazy.

"Okay, sorry, I interrupted… what else did Lady Sage tell you? Did she say anything about the death and devil card?" Tansy asked.

"Um, she got all weird. Her head snapped back and her eyes rolled in the back of her head for a moment," I said, trying to remember what I'd been trying to forget for the past week.

She flipped a page in her notebook so that she had a blank page ready. "So she had a vision," Tansy confirmed, an excited edge to her voice and gleam in her eyes. She seemed to hold onto my every word, gripping the blank notepad in front of her.

"I guess so," I shrugged. "Then she said I was going to be approached by a demonic presence or a demon and that he was near." _Coming, _she had said, her wide, panicked eyes staring at me. My blood went cold in my veins at the memory. I especially didn't like talking about it while being back in this closet-like room where it had happened.

"Have you come into contact with anyone new lately that stands out to you?" she asked, eyes intent on mine.

"Yes," I said immediately, thinking of the red-eyed man at the bar. "I think I know exactly who she saw in her vision. Or _what_ she saw, or whatever." I almost surprised myself that I was freely talking about this. I didn't want to even tell my family of the weird things that I thought were happening, because any sane person would think I was going crazy. _I _thought I was going crazy! I wanted to stop myself from admitting these thoughts to this stranger, because part of me was trying to rationalize the strange things that had been happening. When I had been drunk with Liz, it had been easy to admit to my bizarre fears, but when I was sober and talking to a stranger, not so much.

"Tell me what you saw," she said, scribbling down in her note pad.

_Might as well tell her everything_, I thought, _or there was no point in coming here at all._ I sighed in defeat. "I work in a bar and this man sat down and he had red eyes with these weird slitted pupils that go sideways. They were sort of like a goat's, but not taking up the entire eye like a goat's do. Half human, half goat-like I guess…"

Her writing became more furious.

"…The next time I saw him, a few days later, he wore sunglasses."

"Were both of these instances at night?" she asked, her eyes still down on her notepad as she furiously drew on the page.

I thought about that for a second. "Yes, the only two times I saw him were at night. Is that important?"

"In this case, yes. Anything else happen?"

"Well, I don't know if this is relevant, but yesterday morning there were red dots in my vision, and they're still there. This started happening the next morning after I last saw him. I went to the eye doctor yesterday and they couldn't tell me anything."

She finally stopped scribbling and looked up at me. It looked like she had written a few sentences, drawn a pair of eyes, and scrawled one word over and over again. I couldn't exactly tell what it said.

"I have his name," she said, and that confused me.

"You've met him?" I asked incredulously.

"No, I haven't met him, but I'm almost positive that this is his name." She showed me her notes again. "Caymnaburus" was written over and over on the bottom of the page.

"How do you know that is his name, then?" I asked.

"Just like I knew your name. Spirits move me into writing things sometimes. Only when I concentrate do I get little snippets of things, and I try to write them down before I can forget them. I can't explain, but this is getting off subject." She started shaking her head. "I also keep on seeing a black cloud of smoke. This is usually the image the spirits give me for a curse. What I think has happened is you've been cursed by this demonic being with the red goat eyes."

"Cursed?" I asked. I suddenly felt my pulse pounding inside my head.

"It's okay, relax," she said, evidently sensing my panic. "A curse doesn't necessarily mean what people think it means. It doesn't mean anything bad is going to happen to you like a barren womb or a course of bad luck. Charms, incantations, and curses are all different forms of spells. A charm or incantation generally means it's been made up of plants or use of words, but a curse means that it has been made with blood magic. Bad, evil magic. It may not be anything too bad as far as the curse goes, but it's not from a friendly source."

_Not at all comforting_, I thought.

"He would have had to come in contact with your blood. Did you wake up with a cut the morning you started seeing the dots in your eyes?"

The memory of cutting myself on the Dom Pérignon foil flooded back to me. "No, but I cut myself at the bar that night on a piece of foil. He gave me a Band-Aid."

"Oh man," she groaned, lightly slapping her hand over her eyes. "And let me guess, the Band-Aid was gone the next morning."

"How'd you know?" I asked, surprised.

She sighed and moved her hand away from her face, big blue eyes staring intently. "Let me tell you about demons, Cara. They are the worst things you can come in contact in this world or the next. They can read your greatest fears and use them against you. They can watch you by day and they can prowl this world in any kind of form they wish by night. They can take a part of themselves and give it to you—in this instance, the Band-Aid. But he disappears out of existence at daybreak and the Band-Aid, along with your blood on it, went with him. Poof!" She flung her hands in the air. "Gone."

I stared at her for a moment, not sure how to proceed. "What do I do?" I finally asked, and it came out as a whisper.

"First we have to lift this curse, whatever it is. It could be something as innocent as keeping tabs on you out of curiosity. I bet he could sense that you were different, couldn't see your aura, maybe, and wanted to figure out why," she said, then seemed to remember something. "Did you ask him about his eyes?"

"Yes," I answered. "He seemed shocked, like he didn't know his eyes were red at first."

"Because he definitely has a disguise he has conjured up, and that probably included some kind of pretty eye color. For some reason you could see his real eyes. I don't know how that is possible, because I've seen a demon once and I don't think even I could see anything that it didn't want me to see." She looked as if she saw something that wasn't in the room and suddenly shook her head and waved her pen around as if she were swatting it away. "Anyway, we are going to have to lift this curse, whatever it is. Even if it's not causing you any current danger, being in a demon's radar is never a good thing. We may have to do it somewhere else, though. This is not an appropriate place for lifting curses. I'd get my ass handed to me if Lady Sage caught me lifting curses in here."

As if on cue, we heard the sound of someone unlocking and opening the front door. The little bell above the door jingled. "Tansy! Why is the front door locked and the open sign off?" someone called out. I was pretty sure it was Lady Sage and the look in Tansy's suddenly wide blue eyes showed her alarm.

Suddenly Lady Sage looked inside the door frame and there was a moment of stunned silence. She looked startled as she caught sight of me, but her expression quickly flashed into anger. Tansy looked like she had already accepted whatever was going to happen, still facing me, and not bothering to turn in Lady Sage's direction.

"Tansy," Lady Sage whispered, as if she did more than whisper she would scream. "What is she doing here?" There was another painful moment of silence, the tension so thick you could slice it up and fry it. When Lady Sage realized Tansy wasn't going to respond, her eyes flicked back to me. "Please leave. And never come back." I was surprised at how she said it, so calmly, like she was saying something entirely different. I didn't move for a second, and not because I was trying to be uncooperative. I was scared shitless of her!

"Please leave and never come back!" she screamed. I flinched, then stood up kind of nervously as she moved away from the door to let me move past her.

Suddenly Tansy snapped out of her frozen state and jerked her head. "I'm just trying to help!" she yelled.

"Tansy, you went against _exactly_ what I asked of you. I don't think you can possibly come up with a good excuse this time. I've had enough! You're fired."

I walked out of the building and froze on the front porch, wondering if I should leave or not. I knew I should at least shut the door behind me, but I didn't.

"Get your stuff and go." A lot of the anger had left Lady Sage's voice, and I could hear a lot of clambering around as Tansy packed her stuff.

I caught a glimpse of Lady Sage walking around with what looked to be a smoldering stick in one hand and a feather in the other, waving smoke around. "I cleanse this room of impurities, evil spirits, and anything that does not support the good energy of this place of business," she was saying over and over, and I wondered if it was her intention to have me hear. I decided to wait by my car, suddenly aware of how very unwelcome I was. A few minutes later, I saw Tansy come out onto the porch, illuminated by the light coming from inside, a cardboard box in her arms.

"You're insane, you know that?" she yelled into the doorway. I didn't hear if Lady Sage replied, but the door slammed shut in her face.

Tansy walked to me slowly, looking down into her box and kicking pieces of gravel with her black boots. She finally looked up when she got close.

"I'm sorry I got you fired," I said before she could say anything. I guess I hadn't really gotten her fired, but I did feel somewhat responsible.

"It was a long time coming," she said, sighing. "I might be able to get a job at one of the other psychic places in town. I have some connections."

"I'll still pay you for our session."

"You don't have to pay me. That wasn't much of a session."

"But I want to," I insisted, going through my bag to get to my wallet.

"No, no, pay me at the next session if you want," she said and I stopped digging through my purse. "We should meet as soon as possible so we can get this curse lifted."

"Okay, when should we do it?" I asked, thinking of my work schedule.

She chewed on her lip, considering it. "Probably at night. The full moon is coming up in a few days, so that'll probably be helpful."

Thinking she was making a joke, I laughed, but when she only stared with a very serious expression, I cleared my throat. "Okay. Well, I work tomorrow morning, but I'm off at night."

"The full moon is the night after that, and I'm going to need a little bit of time to get all the things I need. How about then?"

"Monday?" I clarified. "I have to work that night till two thirty. Is three o' clock AM too late?" Ugh, that was too late for me, but hell! If I was going to do this, I wanted to get it done and over with as soon as possible.

"Monday night—or Tuesday morning, I should say—is good. Sorry, I'm just not up for anything after this shit," she said, jerking her head toward her now former place of work.

"Yeah, I understand."

"All right. Well, let me give you my number and you can call me Monday to get my address," she said. "And if anything else happens, you can call me." She gave me her number and I saved it in my phone. "Well, see you then," she said, walking away, heading toward the back of the building, where I'm guessing she parked her car.

"Bye!" I said.

"Oh!" she turned suddenly, facing me again, gravel crunching beneath her boots. "Do you own a blessed cross?"

"A blessed cross?" For the life of me, I couldn't handle the subject change.

"I read in a very reliable book that a cross or crucifix that's been prayed over can protect you," she answered.

"I don't have one," I answered. "But my mom has a cross necklace. Could I have her pray over that?"

"If she is a believer, yes, do that as soon as possible. And a silver cross is preferable, or so I've read."

"I'm actually allergic to silver…" I let the words hang. As soon as I said it, I had a passing thought. My allergy to silver suddenly seemed more strange than it ever had before, though I couldn't really figure out why. It had always been a little strange, because the allergy was rare, but everyone has weird facts about themselves, right? Some person may have one foot significantly larger than the other or have the urge to sneeze every time they eat chocolate, but that doesn't mean anything significant. Something nagged at me like an itch wanting to be scratched, but I dismissed the feeling.

Tansy seemed to have an idea of her own, because her eyes got a little too wide, but I dismissed that as well. "Non silver may work just as well. Also, lay salt underneath your doors and windows," she said.

"Just the ones leading outside?" I asked.

"Just the ones leading outside," she confirmed. "Goodnight, Cara. See you Monday night," she said, her voice sounding oddly shaken.


	6. Chapter 6

Six

I locked the doors immediately after jumping in my little white Honda and drove off the lot. My mind raced with thoughts, and before I realized what I was doing, I was taking a right to go to my parents' instead of going straight toward downtown. I cursed, then took a deep breath and allowed myself to feel relieved about the change in direction. I would feel much safer if I stayed the night at my parents'. Also, I could snag a cross and have my mom pray over it. That was going to be a strange conversation, but I'd cross that bridge when and if I came to it.

After a moment, I started thinking about all the worrisome things Tansy had said and I started trembling. As I drove down a dark street, I imagined the red-eyed man appearing in the road to get me and thankfully, nothing like that happened. I chuckled to myself, thinking maybe I watched too many movies, but anxiety quickly set in again. My heart was beating so hard, I felt like it might explode out of my chest. I didn't feel safe, even with my car doors locked, and when I finally parked in my parent's driveway, it took all my courage to not sprint toward the front door. As soon as I walked in the door and shut it behind me, I sighed, feeling instant relief.

"Hey, Carebear," my step-father said, calling me by my childhood nickname. He heaved himself up from the couch to give me a squeeze and a kiss on my forehead.

"Hi, Dad," I said, my voice coming out a little breathy.

"Didn't expect you coming home tonight," he said.

"I know, I…" I started.

"Cara!" my mother exclaimed from the kitchen. "Do you want a grilled cheese sandwich?" she asked, holding up a plate and setting it down at the bar.

"I thought that was for me!" Bruce said, only slightly teasing.

"I'll make you another one," she said, waving a hand at him in a dismissive gesture and then aiming a smile at me.

He went back to the couch, eyes focused on the TV in a sudden trance. By the familiar sounds, I knew he was watching football, and I couldn't believe that he had gotten up from the couch to give me a hug and kiss while it was on. "Good to have you here, Cara, it really is," he said, eyes still glued on the game. I smiled.

I was kind of surprised they hadn't asked me why I'd come. It wasn't like me to show up before bed time unannounced, but they acted as if it were a common occurrence. "You guys are going crazy now that both of your children have flown the coop," I accused, pretty much bounding toward my grilled cheese sandwich. I felt so much safer at home, like I could forget all the madness of the week.

"Yeah, well, your dad is going crazy," my mom admitted, pointing at him with her spatula as she made another sandwich. I stuffed some grilled cheese in my mouth, watching her from my bar stool.

"Whatever she says, you cannot move back in!" Bruce yelled to us over the TV.

"You can move back in if you want to," my mom whispered, smiling.

"It's okay, I don't want to move back in, Mom," I whispered back, not able to help my own smile.

She forced her mouth into a frown to say she was pouting, but I wasn't fooled. "How did your appointment go? You never told me."

_My psychic appointment? _I stiffened before I realized she was talking about my eye-doctor's appointment the day before. Either way, it all revolved around the same subject that I just couldn't get away from. I hoped the anxiety I had been feeling earlier and was suddenly feeling again didn't show plain on my face. "Well, um," I started, then took another bite of my grilled cheese to give me some time to come up with something. I held up one finger, motioning her to wait a minute. "They thought it might have something to do with my sensitivity toward sunlight. They told me I need to get a really good pair of UV protection sunglasses," I said finally. The lie was so good, I surprised even myself. At first, I didn't think she was going to buy it, due to my obvious attempt at buying time, but if she second-guessed me, it didn't show.

"Do you have money for nice sunglasses?" she asked, grabbing a plate from the cupboard and dumping Bruce's sandwich onto it.

It suddenly occurred to me that she might try to buy me expensive sunglasses on the count of my lie. "Yeah, I do," I said, letting the lies pile on. I didn't have a couple hundred dollars to get nice sunglasses lying around, but I would scrape up money for them if it stopped her from buying them. I really hated lying, but in this instance, I was convinced it was better than telling the truth. I was worried enough for myself without my mom getting involved. I could only imagine what she would do if I told her everything. Try to have an exorcism performed on me? _Please, no, thank you_.

My mom is really weird when it comes to religion. I feel like she's tried to convince us that she's not Christian and she doesn't want anything to do with church—except the occasional holiday—but I don't buy it. I think she doesn't _want_ to believe, because when she grew up, she felt she was forced to believe. "In our house, we will serve the Lord," was my grandfather's quote when he was alive. I think because it was forced down her throat before she had a chance to make up her own mind, she still rebels against it. I think she does believe in God though, whether she says so or not. Whenever some crisis happens, she turns to prayer and when she wants to give advice, it seems to come straight from the Bible. As much as I hated lying, it was the price I had to pay to keep the peace…and not a church service.

"This isn't something to be taken lightly, Cara. You need your eyesight. If you can't pay for your own sunglasses, let me know."

"Thanks Mom, but I got this," I assured her.

"Okay, if you say so," she said, putting the used pan in the sink to soak. "Now I'm going to go to bed." As she went to give Bruce his sandwich and kiss him goodnight, I contemplated asking for a cross necklace. Though I didn't want to ask for fear of more questions I'd have to lie through, if I was going to do it, there'd be no better time than now. When she turned to say goodnight to me, I spat out, "Mom, before you go to bed, can I borrow one of your cross necklaces?"

She suddenly looked suspicious. "Why do you want to borrow a cross necklace?" she asked. _Ah, mother, you know me all too well._

I laughed a little. "It's silly, but I feel like maybe it will comfort me and help me from having bad dreams." Another lie.

"Oh, no, are you having bad dreams again?" she asked, looking suddenly sympathetic. I had had frequent night terrors throughout my childhood, so bad that I couldn't spend the night at other peoples' houses. I never knew what had spiked the dreams, because as far as I could remember, I had never had anything traumatic happen to me that they might've stemmed from. Nevertheless, I used to wake up screaming bloody murder and when one of my parents came into my room, I'd tell them about a "snake man" on the ceiling. I hardly remembered the actual dreams now, only the feeling of terror and what my parents relayed to me. Though I don't remember much of the actual dreams, I've since developed a severe fear of snakes.

I shrugged, not wanting to open my mouth to say another lie.

"Well, that's not silly at all," she said, all suspicion leaving and a hint of a smile playing on her lips like she was proud I was turning to God in a crisis. "Let me go get one. I think I have a cheap nickel one that you can have that Aunt Bonnie gave to me."

Usually a little silver pendant won't irritate my skin too badly, but a silver chain necklace or earrings that are constantly on the skin leave chafed red marks or welts. My mom never forgets about my allergy and only buys me really cheap costume jewelry, or gold on special occasions, which I appreciate about her.

I sat there for a moment finishing my sandwich and when I went to put my dish in the dishwasher, my mom reappeared. "Here you go," she said, placing the necklace around my neck. It was a very plain metal cross and chain, decorated with fake turquoise beads. "There's no reason to worry about any bad dreams. You're safe." She put her arms around my shoulders and squeezed.

"I know, Mom," I said, leaning back into her hug. "But just in case, will you say a little prayer over my cross?"

She let me go and spun me around to face her so she could look at me suspiciously again. She had that look that said, "Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?" But she did as I asked without question. "Lord God, please protect Cara tonight and every night. Keep her safe and keep your loving arms around her. Amen." She hugged me again, and I hugged her back. "There's really nothing to be afraid of."

"I know there isn't," I said. But I was lying again. There might be something to be afraid of.

She released me, said her goodnight to Bruce again, and went to their bedroom. I waited till she closed the door behind her and Bruce's eyes were back on the game to grab salt from the cupboard. I poured a large amount of it into a measuring cup and looked at the back of Bruce's head, frowning to myself. I could take a cup of salt and spread it heavily underneath the door and windows of Jessie's room, but I couldn't possibly do it to every door and window in the entire house. Not without my parents wondering what I was doing.

I hoped the salt ritual wouldn't keep me safe and leave them as some sort of targets. I tried to push those thoughts out of my mind. If Tansy was right and he was just curious about me, he probably didn't want to do me or my family any harm. _Just a curious demon. Totally harmless_, I thought. _Right._

As soon as I woke up on Monday, I got Tansy's address by way of text message and began counting down the hours till I would see her. Her home was about thirty minutes away in Johns Island, which was outside my realm of familiarity, but I'd manage.

Angel Oak was very crowded that night, and the first few hours I hardly had a moment where I wasn't running between tables, which I was grateful for. When the dinner crowd started dwindling away around eight-forty, I suddenly realized the sun had set. It hadn't really occurred to me that _he_ could be coming tonight, but as soon as I thought it, I saw him. And he was sitting in my section. I froze for a moment, staring at the back of his head while he gave the appearance of casually looking over the menu. Just a regular customer, here to get some food and drink. _Suuure_.

I contemplated giving my table to someone else, but when I looked around, there were no other waitresses in sight. Just my luck. I took a deep, shaky breath and walked to his table. He looked up and smiled at me as I approached, sunglasses pushed high on the bridge of his nose to hide his eyes. He was wearing a dark blue collared shirt rolled up over his forearms, which were perfectly muscled, I couldn't help but notice. When some people are pale, you can see all their veins, hairs, and blemishes, but he didn't have any imperfections to speak of and the dark blue of his shirt accentuated the milky paleness of his skin. His curly hair looked soft and those full lips looked absolutely kissable. My heart started beating fast in my chest, and it wasn't just because I was afraid of what he might be. He looked even more perfect than I remembered. I found myself wishing that he would take off his stupid sunglasses. _Then again_, I thought, _I probably don't want that_.

"Hello, what can I get you?" I asked, trying to sound like my normal cheerful self, the way I usually talked to customers.

"Hello again. I think I'm going to get a dirty bloody Mary, like usual." At least it wasn't the Dom Pérignon, I guess.

"All right, coming right up," I said, twirling on my heel to put the order in with the bartender.

"Hold on," he said, reaching out and touching my wrist. I jerked my hand back as if I'd been stung, not able to stop my reaction. I glanced around the restaurant to see if anyone had noticed my dramatic behavior, and surprisingly, no one was paying any attention to us. To me, it seemed that everyone should notice this guy and sense his otherworldliness. The small patch of skin on my wrist where he had touched me tingled, and my whole body seemed to focus on that one spot. _Tingle_ was maybe too mild of a word. It almost felt like I had touched a live wire and could still feel the effects. I thought it wasn't just the feeling you get when someone attractive touches you. Not that I know much about that, but it felt like something much more. A flashing neon sign in my head blinked, _Danger! Danger! _"Is something wrong?" he asked.

"No," I lied quickly, thinking that was an odd question to ask your waitress. Then again, nothing about our interaction since he'd started coming here had been normal for a waitress and patron.

"You're afraid of me," he said. It wasn't a question, but there was a hint of surprise and maybe accusation in his voice. I wondered if he really could read my fears upon sight like Tansy had said. "Why?" he asked.

"I'm not afraid of you," I said, and tried to smile convincingly, but the sudden high pitch of my voice gave me away.

"Well, good. My name is Caymn, by the way." He was trying to be friendly and probably ease some of my tension, but it wasn't working.

"Caymn," I repeated, logging it into my brain for storage or maybe for lack of anything else to say. Suddenly, I realized that it most definitely had to be the shortened version of Caymnaburus, the name Tansy had given him. My mouth suddenly felt dry.

"What's your name?" he prodded. I realized I must be looking at him strangely.

"Cara," I said, my voice cracking a little bit.

"Cara," he said, repeating my name as I had done. "That's funny—our names are kind of similar. Caymn and Cara."

That was true, but I didn't remark on it, too distracted with the sound of our names together—like a couple. A moment passed where we just stared at each other, me probably looking like a deer in headlights and him looking puzzled, though it was hard to read his expression with sunglasses on. "I'll get you your dirty bloody Mary," I said when I was finally able to pull myself out of my stupid inner-monologue.

"Fine," he said, flinging his hands up and making an exasperated sound like he was giving up making small talk with me. _Good_, I thought. _Please give up._

As I asked the bartender on duty for a dirty bloody Mary, Hannah, the hostess on the clock, slid casually next to me. "Hey, girl," she said, giving me a mischievous grin and huddling in close as if we were long-time buddies. We weren't.

"Hello, Hannah," I said warily.

"So, who's that guy?" she asked, turning her head to stare at Long-haired-sunglasses across the restaurant.

I shrugged. "I don't really know him."

"He seemed to know you! He asked to sit in your section," she said, eyes still glued to the back of his head in obvious lust.

That didn't completely surprise me. Though I couldn't come up with a logical reason why he would be interested in me, he apparently was. According to Tansy, I was different, but since no one was ever interested in me, I dubbed him Weirdest Dude Ever.

"He's so hot," Hannah went on, running her fingers through her hair. "I wonder why he wanted to sit in your section," she said incredulously.

I didn't miss the insult there, though she seemed oblivious to it. When my bloody Mary was set in front of me, I smiled at the bartender and walked off without another word to Hannah. As I set the drink down in front of Long-haired-sunglasses, I tried to smile. I was doing my best not to be openly rude, no matter how much discomfort I felt around him.

"Cara, I have a question," he said. The sound of my name coming out of his mouth made my stomach flip flop. I wasn't sure what scared me more: him knowing my name or that I liked how he said it. I didn't say anything, not trusting my voice. "Are you good friends with Elizabeth?" The question was so unexpected, it caught me off guard.

"Liz?" I asked.

"Yes, _Liz-z-z_." he answered, strangely dragging her name out.

I considered Liz to be one of my only friends, but I contemplated what I should tell him. He evidently had some weird interest in me, so I wondered if my next words would steer his interest toward her. Did I want him to be interested in Liz? No. And not only because it seemed his interest could be hazardous to one's health. If I was honest, I felt a little twinge of jealousy. Not sure what to do, I decided to downplay our friendship. "No, we're not really friends. We just chat while we're at work sometimes." After I said it, I thought I should have just told him it was none of his F-ing business and to butt out.

"Oh," he said, not offering an explanation. I felt so uneasy being near him that I didn't want to ask for one and risk causing the conversation to go on even longer.

"Anything else I can get you?" I chirped with false cheerfulness.

"No," he said dismissively, looking at his drink as if in deep thought. "Thank you."

He ordered another drink later on and asked for his check, but that was the last we conversed that night. When I went to pick up his change, I caught a glimpse of him walking out of the restaurant and onto the street. I stared maybe a little longer than I needed to, but I had almost expected him to vanish into thin air. I opened the check holder and collected the cash. He had left me a twenty-dollar tip, which was generous. I wondered if the money would disappear out of existence the next morning like the Band-Aid had. _Not like I need one more piece of evidence against him_, I thought.


	7. Chapter 7

Seven

I growled with exasperation at myself as I hopped into the driver's seat of my little white Honda. Why would he have asked about Liz? I could think of one good reason: she's beautiful. Way prettier than me. I hated that Caymn had asked about her and I hated myself for hating it. I should have been more worried for her, but my jealousy was getting the better of me.

I turned the key in the ignition, the engine puttering to life, and before I put the car in reverse I checked my cell phone. _A missed call from Liz. _We had worked opposite schedules these past two days, which I realized was how our shifts normally worked for Sunday and Monday, but I hadn't noticed it till then. I decided I'd call her the next day, since it was almost three in the morning. I had to pay close attention to the directions to Tansy's house, anyway.

The first fifteen minutes of the drive were easy, but when I got out to Johns Island, the rural roads had hardly any street lights and darkness hugged closely around the windows of my car. I hunched over the steering wheel, trying not to miss any turns. Large oak trees hung over the winding road, looming dangerously close to my car as I whizzed by.

I almost missed her driveway, but at the last moment caught sight of a sign with reflective letters reading "McGee," a marker that Tansy had told me about. With a sharp right turn and the scary sound of my tires skidding on loose gravel, I was on her driveway. The driveway turned out to be a dirt road going through trees, and for a whole long minute of driving down it, I wondered if I had accidentally made the wrong turn. Finally it opened up and I saw a little house. It was hard to see details in the dark, but it appeared to be a small one story in multiple shades of brown brick and wood paneling. Tansy sat on the front porch, smoking a cigarette and curled over her knees like it was cold, which it certainly wasn't.

I parked behind an old station wagon with too many stickers on the back. There was a cluster of stickers on the back window showing a little family of stick figures: a mom, a daughter, and two cats, each either carrying a wand or wearing a witch's hat. There was a "My other car is a broom" sticker as well as others about preserving nature and animal rights.

When she walked up to my car window as I stepped out, it was hard not to feel insanely tall next to her, her head hardly reaching my chest area. At a passing glance, you could easily mistake her for a child. She looked a lot different from last time without a drop of makeup and her short bangs pulled back with a clip. She had dressed a lot more relaxed in checkered sneakers, gray sweats that went to the knee, and a faded black cami with no bra. Her face was pretty and she looked like a dainty, china doll, the way I imagined she would without all that black makeup and 6-inch boots. No matter how pretty and normal her clothes and makeup, though, she would always stand out in any crowd with her arms and lower legs covered in tattoos that looked almost like a kid's sloppy handwriting. I noticed that the tattoos on her right arm were noticeably neater and better than the chicken scrawl on her left arm. And even if she covered up the tattoos, the bull-like nose piercing on her delicate face would make you do a double take.

"Is it okay that I parked here?" I asked.

"Yeah, that's fine," she whispered. "We have to be quiet when we go through the house, okay? My mom's sleeping."

"Okay," I whispered back.

We walked up the tiny porch and I noticed the wreath on the front door was a pentagram, a star made out of twigs in the center of an otherwise simple-looking wreath. The first room was a small living room with a green and brown color scheme, the only light coming from the TV which was on low volume. Though her family seemed to be lower income, someone kept the house clean and smelling nice, like herbs and flowers. A little white and brown cat lay on the back of the green couch, staring at us as we walked through, its eyes catching the light off the TV. She motioned me through the living room, through a kitchen/dining room that was too dark to pick out a color scheme, and through a glass door to the backyard.

A few brick steps descended from the back door into the backyard, if you could call the tiny space a yard. The small amount of earth between the house and the trees was filled with flowers and plants. Down the middle was a dirt path, which led straight into the woods.

"This way," she said and I followed her down the path.

"Into the woods?" I hissed, not liking this. Hell, I didn't like going into the woods in the day time, let alone at night trying to lift curses.

"Yeah, it's not far, don't worry. We'll be able to talk more freely when we get to the circle." I wondered what she meant by the circle, but decided not to ask. I'd find out soon enough. I sighed as I made the first step into the woods, unsuccessfully trying to release my unease.

We hadn't walked far at all when something made me look behind us and I was surprised to see a pair of cat eyes, eerily catching the moonlight. "Someone's following us," I said.

"Who?" I wasn't looking at Tansy, but I could hear the surprise in her voice and I would've bet she'd jumped. She was nervous too and that wasn't at all comforting. "Oh, that's Herman," she said and sighed with obvious relief.

"Your cat?" I asked as Herman came up. I held my hand out and he pressed his head into my palm, coaxing me to pet him. He was kind of an ugly cat, in a cute sort of way. He was black with a very thin face, pointed snout, very slanted greenish-yellow eyes, and disproportionately large ears. The more I looked at him, the more I decided he had the ugliest cat face I'd ever seen.

"No, he just kind of comes and goes. He's been coming around here since, geez, it's been almost ten years now."

I ran my hand along him a few times, then stood so we could continue down the path. He went along ahead of us like he knew where we were going, and I idly thought he looked like a younger cat with his shiny black coat, much younger than ten years. Not like I know much about cats, but it was a passing thought.

"Strangely, I've been seeing Herman since I saw a demon when I was eleven. I like to think that he is my little guardian, protecting me. Is that silly?"

"No, that's not silly." Of course a cat wasn't protecting her, but who was I to burst her bubble?

"Do you want to know how I first came to see a demon?" she asked. She looked at me and I could hardly see her face, but I thought she looked vulnerable. Insecure, maybe. She peered at me as if to judge the look on my face.

I didn't really want to talk about demons more than we had to, at least not here, in the woods and in the dark. This was a horrible place to do whatever it was we were doing, I was sure of it, and I wondered why I had agreed to it.

"Yeah, tell me," I said, politeness ruling over.

She was right, we didn't have to go far, just far enough so that we were hidden from view of her house in the trees. The dirt path ended at a large, beautiful circular patio made from white stones and lined with whitewashed brick. The only light came from a fire pit with a dying fire in the center of the circle and the full moon, hidden behind trees. First thing Tansy did was put a log and a handful of pine straw in the fire pit to boost the flames. It looked like an amazing place to tell ghost stories and huddle by the fire with s'mores, but without any chairs or other furniture that you'd expect to see. Besides the fire pit in the middle, there was only a small table with objects I could only guess were things to start a fire. Besides that, the large slab was pretty barren. Herman sat as far as he could from the fire while still being on the patio, tail twitching back and forth, watching us with those slanted, yellow-green eyes.

Tansy poked at the fire and began her story. "When I was eleven, me and my old best friend went with my mother to one of her coven meetings at this old woman's house. We got bored during the meeting and ended up peeking in a few of the rooms that were open. There was this bookcase in her house with the most books on spells and magic that I'd ever seen, and we found this book… it was this huge red leather-bound book with demons all over it." As she talked, she motioned with her free hand, poking at the fire with her other. "Of course, we were instantly intrigued by it. My friend ended up stealing it and hid it in her backpack. I told her not to, but she wouldn't listen to me." The way she told it, I could tell it still infuriated her. "That night she spent the night over, and she talked me into doing an incantation from the book. We ended up calling a demon into my bedroom! Fortunately, I had convinced her to take the extra time to cast a circle for it to come into, so we were sort of protected. It was a woman, or a man making himself like a woman, however they do it, I don't know. She was naked, except for being covered in rats, which is my worst fear. She even made her hair to look like long, wriggling rat-tails." Tansy shuddered. "It's an irrational fear, especially because I'm a witch and I believe in being connected with nature, but I'm deathly afraid of rats."

"So what happened?" I urged. I was interested now, even though the story caused me to get goosebumps even in the summer heat.

"She warned me that if I ever called her again, she would kill me. She was very…" She stopped prodding at the fire and looked at me. "Descriptive." I could tell it had been a traumatic experience by the haunted look in her eyes.

"That's terrifying," I said. "What happened to the book?"

"I still have it," she shrugged. "I thought about burning it after that experience, but I had a strong urge not to. I also didn't want to tell my mom that my friend had stolen it and I hadn't told on her. Time just kept going on, and I never had the guts to tell her. You're actually the only person I've told about that."

I stared into the flames for a moment, watching them lick over the wood. We were quiet for a while.

"Let's get started," she finally said. She walked over to a spot between the fire pit and the small table and pointed to her feet. "Why don't you stand over here." She stepped aside, moving closer to the table so I could move to the spot she'd pointed out. As I walked closer to the thing, I realized it wasn't a table on the edge of the circle at all, but an altar made from one large stone slab with bricks underneath it, supporting its weight. On it was an animal skull with small antlers, probably a young deer, along with a small statue of a woman, a double-edged dagger, chalices, candles, crystals, and a few other little things.

"Okay, so I'm going to cast a circle around us. It's a common ritual that I've done before. It basically makes a circle of protection around you, so that you can do your magic in a safe place, free from bad entities. I think if you're in it, it will cast any bad entities and curses from you," she said. "Just in case it doesn't, I'll have you do a cleansing ritual."

"O-okay," I said, my voice shaking a little nervously.

If the obvious tension in her shoulders told me anything, she was nervous, too. "Most witches believe that if you simply don't believe in a curse, you don't give it power. I do believe that to an _extent_, but I think if it's a curse from an actual demon, there is power to it whether you believe or not. Most witches don't believe in demons either, but I think you and I both have reason to."

I had no idea what to do with my arms suddenly, and I hugged them against myself. "Two weeks ago I didn't believe in them," I whispered.

She nodded. "So just stand there and don't move or talk until I say, all right? I don't want to get distracted and have to start over."

She grabbed a little bell from the altar and jingled it three times. A silence fell over the woods; I hadn't even noticed there were sounds until there was an absence of them. She took a match from a matchbox, struck it, and lit two of the candles on the altar, one on the right, one on the left. "Goddess and god, be here with me and guide me." She started lifting things from the altar up in the air and chanted, asking for blessings from "the goddess" and "the god." She then grabbed the double-edged dagger off the altar, kissed the blade, pointed it toward the woods, and walked around the edge of the circle, chanting:

"_In this place, a circle round,_

_I consecrate this sacred ground,_

_With golden light, this place surround,_

_O power here, contain and bound."_

She repeated the chant and her walk around the circle three times, then lay the dagger back down. She started walking around the circle once more and stopped a quarter of the way. She bent over and for the first time I noticed three other candles around the circle, all in opposite corners of the altar. Well, circles don't have corners, but you know what I mean. She bent to light a candle, stood, then chanted,

"_The guardians of the East, I call upon you _

_to consecrate this circle with the element of air. _

_Be welcomed and honored, _

_and may you guide me with your presence." _

She lit another candle and then another, welcoming fire in the south, and water in the west, and then lit the large candle on the altar and chanted for earth in the north.

As soon as the circle was closed, I knew it, and not just because the red spots in my eyes disappeared. Somehow I knew that if I went to the edge of the circle and extended my hands, I would touch something solid. It should have made me claustrophobic, but instead I felt something else. It was something that I had never felt before, like a sense that I never knew I had, almost a looseness or stretchiness in my skin. I had been trapped in a tight, constricting shell my whole life and I hadn't known it existed until now that it seemed to be gone. I almost felt like I could extend myself, feeling the fire and the stone—no, _tasting_ the fire and stone. Tasting the cleansing energy within the fire. Tasting the remnants of magic and the energies of the people who had stood on the stone before me. I was trying to figure out all of what I was feeling when Tansy screamed and latched onto my arm, fingernails digging into my skin. There was pure fear in that scream, but I was feeling too many things to think clearly. I looked at her and then followed her eyes into the woods.

I saw someone then, but it took a few long seconds for my brain to register what I was seeing. Just a few yards outside our circle loomed a man—or what had the body shape of a man—holding onto a tree, only touching it with his fingertips and balls of his feet. No human could possibly hold onto a tree like that. He was sickeningly skinny with saggy, pale pinkish skin. His eyes were red, but they weren't goat eyes or like any eyes I'd ever seen. They were completely red and the only thing that hinted at where his gaze aimed was a ring that caught the light from the fire. He had no ears and absolutely no hair on his naked body, making him look like a mix between human and a naked mole rat.

"Taaaaannssssyyyy," he said, drawing her name out, twisting his neck to an impossible angle. His voice was surprisingly deep, not just in tone, but as if there were power behind it. The very sound felt like scratching fingernails inside my head and I could swear I heard the high-pitched screeching of frightened rats. I didn't have to be afraid of rats to have fear knot up my stomach. Tansy put her face into my body and made involuntary noises, her whole tiny body shaking.

He laughed, loud and deep, and the sound painfully reverberated in the back of my skull. His teeth were rat-like, too long for his face and grotesquely yellow and brown.

"Don't be afraid, Tansy," I whispered, trying to sound brave. "He can't touch us." I thought less of myself for it, but I was silently grateful that his eyes were on her and not me.

"Tansy, you have done a very naughty thing," he continued, waving a long-nailed finger at us. "You will have to pay the price. A very high price, at that."

"What did she do? Why is there a price?" I yelled at him.

He ignored me. "Do you even know what you've undone, little witch?" he asked her, leaping down the tree. Like a cat, he fell perfectly on his feet. He walked closer to the circle and Tansy moved back, pushing me closer to the fire in the center. I could feel the heat on my skin, uncomfortably close. She was frantically shaking her head like she could shake the image of him away. When I glanced down, I saw that even Herman had moved to stand behind us, trying to get out of the demon's line of vision. "You've undone a more complicated curse than you can ever imagine, one that requires enough blood to drown an ox in." As he stomped around the circle, as if searching for a weak spot, he wore a disturbing expression that I couldn't distinguish between anger and derangement. "Ten curses in one!"

_ Who was this? Why had I been cursed with ten curses in one?_ I couldn't imagine why anyone would want to curse me at all! I was just a very uninteresting girl raised in an uninteresting place!

He continued to stare down the frightened little girl next to me and opened his mouth of too many teeth again. "I could take you home and you could be my familiar for the extent of your miserable life, little witch. I really could do that, you know. It's about time for a new one."

_What the hell is a familiar?_ I wondered. Tansy made another noise that sounded like a whimper.

"But I won't do that, little witch. Not to you. You know what I'm really going to do to you?" He hovered close to the circle, hands suddenly moving along it. _Oh god, please tell me he couldn't break the circle_. "I will tear you in two and spill every drop of your blood into my new curse. I must remake it, you see. If your little body doesn't hold enough blood for me, I'll finish it with your loved ones. Your…" He paused, squinting toward the direction of the house. "Mother."

"Caymnaburus," Tansy finally spoke, the threat toward her mother helping her to gather enough anger, and through that, strength. She stomped toward the altar, and I saw him suddenly disappear. She screamed when he reappeared right before her, close enough to grab her if it weren't for the protective circle. She managed to grab whatever she needed from the altar, the task bringing her only inches from him, and retreated to the center next to me. He had moved so fast, it created the illusion that he had disappeared and reappeared. She extended her arm toward him, holding the small knife she'd used to make the circle that I now know as an _athame_. "I banish you back to whence you came, the goddess as my protector, the saving light, and your ultimate bane!"

He laughed again, long and deep. The very sound crashed into my head like a lightning bolt and we both wobbled on our feet. "You… can't… banish… me… without… my… name," he said, forming every word so slowly and deliberately like he didn't have to worry about how much time it took. It was very inhuman. "Very curious that you think I'm Caymnaburus. Very curious." He cocked his bald head to the side, implying his curiousness.

For the first time, he looked at me, and my stomach threatened to jump out of my body. "I am someone else, but you already knew that, didn't you, Carus?"

_Did he call me Cara or Carus? _The thought occurred to me, but it was a fleeting thought. His question seemed more important. I had known that he wasn't Caymnaburus, hadn't I? Whoever this was, he evidently knew me enough to put curses over me, but I didn't know him at all. I knew he wasn't Caymn, at the very least. "Yes," I whispered, knowing that my voice would tremble if I spoke aloud. His eyes caught the light from the fire, red light shining eerily when I met his gaze. The hair on the back of my neck was standing up at attention. When I looked down at Herman, curled around my feet, so was his.

"Do you know who I am?" he prodded.

"No," I answered truthfully, glancing back up and regretting it.

He laughed again, more uproariously than ever. Tansy smacked her hands against her ears and held them, falling to her knees. I covered my ears too and cowered from the noise. Suddenly he seemed to change, his pale, saggy body becoming darker and hard-muscled. It wasn't like molding clay morphing into a different shape, but like sand was coming from nowhere and adding pieces to his body. Horns sprouted, and his skin darkened till he was so black, it seemed that even the light was afraid to touch him. His red eyes brightened into yellow, and black vertically-slit pupils swam up from within. _Snake eyes_, I realized in horror. My heart pounded in my chest and into my head so fast and loud that the laugh that still boomed was drowned out. My hands went from my ears to hold myself around my stomach. Fear wrenched my gut so hard, I thought I might throw up. I had been afraid of snakes for as long as I could remember, and here the snake man of my nightmares stood before me, impossibly black and horrible. I had the urge to run and run forever, but I was frozen in place, immobile with complete, overwhelming fear. He saw the horror on my face and laughed even louder. When I finally thought my ears would start bleeding, he disappeared. He seemed to cave in on himself and was gone, but not before I heard a little hiss inside my ears and felt a flick of snake tongue that wasn't there. I pulled my shoulders up to protect my ears and I swatted at where little snakes should be, but my hands batted against empty air.

I hadn't even known I was crying, but suddenly I could hear my own sobs. I had a horrible headache and a deafening ringing in my ears, but I could hardly care about that. Seeing snakes had given me a panic attack once before, but this was so much worse. I couldn't even remember what the snake man had looked like, but he had plucked the fear from deep within my brain and dished it out to me. How could you go against something like this? How could you ever feel safe?

For the first time, I wondered if snakes were really what I was afraid of. The very sight of them had always crippled me with fear, but had I been a baby in my crib with the snake man casting curses over my head? Could it have been a demon that I had always been afraid of? The thought occurred to me, then was gone, as if my brain couldn't handle what it was that I might have forgotten. That door was slammed shut as quickly as it had been opened and I stopped thinking about it.

Tansy and I stood there for a long time without saying a word, trying to steady our breathing. The woods went back to making noises: an opossum shuffling across the path between us and the house, and birds singing the sun's soon-arrival. Even Herman stirred and went toward the house. As soon as he stepped off the bricks, the circle broke, and I felt it sort of pop and fall. I thought it was lucky that he hadn't gotten scared and broken the circle too early. Then again, I would bet that animals felt and saw things like protective circles even better than we did.

"Okay, let's get out of here," I said.

"Hell no, we are not breaking the circle." Tansy grabbed onto my arm tightly, forcing me to stay where I was.

I blinked at her. She hadn't felt the circle fall? I'd have to tell her that animals could break the circle, but it didn't seem like the right time. I had a feeling she would start frantically making another circle if I did. Though having another circle around me was tempting, I thought the demon was gone by now and we were as safe as we were going to be. At least for this night.

"We only have about an hour to sunrise," she muttered, glancing toward the sky.

I sighed but didn't argue. I decided to sit down and after a few minutes, Tansy sat as well. A while passed where we didn't speak, but finally I asked, "What's a familiar?"

"A witch's familiar is an animal that can assist a witch in her powers. We can draw energy or power through our animals. It benefits both witch and animal, because the animal has a longer and healthier lifespan. I've only read about demons having familiars. _Human_ _familiars_." The last part she whispered as if it were too horrible of a thought to say aloud, and maybe it was. It certainly didn't sound pleasant.

"Is Herman your familiar?" I asked.

She laughed, but it wasn't a happy laugh. "No, I tried for a long time. I can't draw power through him. I guess he's just too wild. My cat you saw inside, Kiki, is my familiar." She looked at me and I looked back. Though the fire had died, we could see each other well enough. We weren't able to see the sun directly, but it was rising.

"You look different," she said, studying me through squinted blue eyes.

"I feel different," I admitted. I felt an energy that I'd never felt before, prickling over my skin. "How do I look different?"

"I have no idea what's different, that's what's weird. Somehow it's like I'm seeing you for the first time."

Strangely, I felt like I was alive for the first time.

Tansy chewed on her lip for a moment, before adding, "Don't take this the wrong way, but you look…pretty."

"How could I take that wrong?"

She shrugged and stood up, dusting off her sweat pants before walking off the round patio toward her house.

"Where are you going?" I called after her.

"Lady Sage was right, Cara!" she said, not turning back. "I had no idea what I was getting into." I followed after her until I realized she was going back inside her house. She opened the sliding glass door, but instead of walking through, she whirled around. "Do you think you're evil, Cara?"

The question surprised me. "Do _you_ think I'm evil?" I asked back.

She chewed on her lower lip again, staring at me. "No, I don't think you're evil. But something's not right with you."

I frowned. Feeling the crawling within my skin, like electricity looking for an exit, I knew something was wrong with me. Maybe not wrong, exactly, but not normal. There was a demon out there that had put multiple curses on me for reasons that I couldn't fathom. But there _had_ to be a reason. And if his threats weren't idle, he would be back to make the curses again. But why? I wanted to be afraid for myself. I wanted to scream and have a full-blown meltdown, because it seemed like the right thing to do. It seemed like Tansy was on the verge of a meltdown herself, but I felt fine. At least for the moment. Maybe the night's events had been too much for my mind and body to process and I was going into shock. All I could feel was numb… and the warm buzzing inside.

She just shook her head and closed the sliding glass door behind her, rudely cutting off our conversation. I couldn't exactly blame her after our very frightening night together and I had nothing left to say anyway, except sorry for getting her into this mess. I had only met her twice and I had gotten her fired from her job and been the reason for her having one of the most terrifying nights of her life. Then again, it had also been the most terrifying night of _my_ life, and removing curses had been _her_ idea. She also hadn't had to invite me back to the psychic place in the first place. Maybe it wasn't either of our faults. No matter whose fault it was though, I really doubted she would be contacting me again.

I sighed, suddenly feeling my lack of sleep, and walked around the house to my car. After I fell into the driver's seat and started my engine, I angled the rearview mirror toward my face to inspect myself. I looked exactly the same, if a little more tired than usual. Definitely not more pretty.

I was driving toward my apartment when I suddenly felt ravenously hungry. It was probably due to so much adrenaline having coursed through me and then having nothing left. I wasn't sleepy, exactly. Too shocked from the night's events to be sleepy, but I was drained. I pulled into a McDonald's just a few miles from Tansy's house and went through the drive-thru. While there, I counted my cash, then counted again. I was twenty dollars short of what I had counted the night before. If that was right, I'd either dropped a twenty somewhere or Caymn's money hadn't been real. I wondered if his soft-looking black hair was real—or those pouty lips. I shook my head, trying to clear my head of him. I got two breakfast sandwiches and a huge black coffee and continued to my apartment, eating and thinking as I drove.

I thought that I should've asked Tansy if I could borrow her demon book. She might've said no, but it would've been worth a try. I didn't want to think it, but the thought kept coming, _what if I'm a demon? _Well, a half-demon. It seemed insane, but after my past week, who knew what could be possible! And Lady Sage had said I was one of them. I had always been a little different and I'd never fit in well, but I figured most people experienced feeling like misfits at times, except maybe Jessie. Maybe being "one of them" would explain why my eyes were black, I had an aversion to the sun, and I was allergic to silver. Jessie had always joked that I was a vampire. Now that I thought about it, in all the movies there was always that one person who would call the vampire "a _demon from hell_" or something along those lines. Maybe there was some truth in that. I didn't believe necessarily in vampires—though I guess who knew at this point—but what if demons had been discovered in real life forms centuries ago? What if that's where a lot of the myths about vampires and other monsters came from? I wondered if demons drank blood. The thought made my sandwich lose its taste as I chewed, and I put the rest of it back in the bag. Drinking blood was not something I wanted to do. Maybe demons didn't drink blood at all, or maybe I hadn't gotten that trait. "Or maybe I'm not even a demon _at all_!" I yelled aloud. I sighed and glanced out my window, suddenly catching the eye of an older woman staring at me from one car over. We were at a stop light and she'd obviously heard me—or at least saw that I was yelling to myself. I stifled the urge to stick my tongue out at her and went back to my thoughts, grumbling in frustration. I wasn't sure what I could believe. When I tried to tell myself there couldn't be such a thing as half human, half demon, my thoughts went back to that creature I'd seen just a few hours before. I didn't know why he had cursed me, but if I was something different, something labeled as "other," then maybe delving into this identity would answer some questions.

And Tansy had said I looked different. Had one of the curses been that I would appear different to anyone who looked at me? Was that why I'd never been hit on before? Did I look ugly, or was everyone just compelled to not give me a second glance?

I'd have to ask Tansy about that book. I needed to know more.

Please review!

I'm going to post more, but if you want to read the entire book without having to wait, it's available on Amazon. The Devil in her Heart by Elle Charles.


	8. Chapter 8

Eight

That evening when I awoke, I was almost late for my shift. I only had enough time to throw on my Angel Oak uniform, tie my hair back, and almost run to the restaurant. When I arrived, two minutes late for my shift, I was dripping with sweat. As I was clocking in I noticed Beth, a bleach-blond waitress, staring at me with a strange open-mouthed expression.

"Hi, Beth," I said, smiling at her.

"Hi," she answered reluctantly. The restaurant was crowded and I didn't have enough time to ask why she was staring, so I hurried off to serve my tables. All my customers treated me normally that night, some of them friendly and personable and others not so much. Still, I thought it odd when some of them did a double-take at me.

When I went to take a quick bathroom break an hour into my shift, I heard Harrison, the head manager, talking on the phone in his office. "…Elizabeth hasn't shown up for her shift tonight. I know she's your niece, but I've about had it with that woman…."

I came to a screeching halt. From just a few feet past Harrison's office door, I could no longer hear what he was saying, but my sudden avalanche of thoughts kept me frozen. She had called me the previous night, but I hadn't called her back, assuming that I'd see her at work today. I'd been so busy, I hadn't even noticed when she hadn't shown up. It was a common occurrence for her to show up late for her shifts, but not by a whole hour. _Had something happened to her? _I shook myself out of my thoughts and continued toward the bathroom, silently praying that everything was okay.

Toward the end of my shift that night, when the dinner crowd finally died down and I was stationed at the bar, I made a quick call to Liz. When I got her voicemail, I hung up and hurriedly wrote her a text message.

_ Liz, where are you? Whenever you get this, call me and let me know you're okay._

"Hey." I jerked in surprise and stuffed my phone in my waitressing apron when I heard Harrison's voice come from right behind me.

"Sorry, I was just trying to make sure that Liz is okay," I mumbled, glancing over my shoulder at him.

"It's okay," he murmured. Suddenly I felt his hands on me, rubbing my arms from shoulder to elbow. I stiffened, my skin prickling at his unfamiliar touch, and I wondered what the hell he was doing. "I didn't mean to startle you."

I instinctively squirmed away from him and when I turned, I didn't understand the unfamiliar expression on his face. His hazy eyes were half-lidded and his lips were slightly parted. Finally, I realized I had seen this look a million times, but never directed at me. _Bedroom eyes. _The other waitresses had complained about Harrison before, that he was a big flirt and a pest, but I had never seen it for myself. I generally try not to make judgments based on what other people say, and honestly, I assumed they had vastly over dramatized it. But this was wildly inappropriate.

"Why don't you go home, sweetheart. I'll take over," he said, casually running his hand through his thick, unmanageable brown hair.

_Sweetheart?_ I thought. _Ew. _I mumbled a _thanks_ and left, too stunned by his strange behavior to know how to react.

On my walk home, I followed a little close behind some young college students, not wanting to be completely by myself as I walked on the dimly-lit street. I replayed the awkward exchange between Harrison and me in my mind, wondering what had come over him. Then I remembered the double-takes from my customers and the way Beth had nearly gaped at me. _What was coming over everyone? _I wondered.

A couple guys walked down the sidewalk toward me, one wearing dark sunglasses, and not able to stop myself, I jerked away from them. _Was he a demon? Was he Caymn? _The thought of Caymn made my heart beat a little faster. In an instant they were walking past me and I wasn't sure, but I thought their eyes followed me. Maybe it was just the stupid look on my face. _Had to be just another idiot wearing sunglasses at night, _I decided. My nerves were really getting the better of me. I glanced back to see if the guy with sunglasses was still looking at me, but he and his friend kept on walking, chatting amongst themselves.

_Had anyone else been wearing sunglasses in the restaurant?_ I couldn't remember. I wondered if Caymn could have been there the whole night, unbeknownst to me, spying in some other form. I felt another wave of anxiety and huddled in closer to the small crowd in front of me. A young couple glanced over their shoulders to give me a questioning look, but I didn't care enough to move back. Luckily my apartment was close, and they unintentionally walked me to the building. I walked through the green door off the street and bounded up the iron stairs, taking on three at a time. I pulled my keys out of my waitressing apron and after I fumbled for the right one, I was able to get the door unlocked in record time. I flicked the light switch on in the hallway and sighed heavily, vastly relieved to have bright lights. I padded into the kitchen, taking my apron off and setting it down on my way. As I undid my hair and slipped my shoes off, I contemplated pouring myself a glass of wine. Then I decided coffee would be better if I wanted to keep my head clear, and better yet, it would help me stay up till sunrise.

I knew I shouldn't let my fears take over my life and affect me this way, but I couldn't help myself. How could I sleep peacefully when demons wanted to put curses on me, especially at night when they were supposedly more powerful? As I went to retrieve my coffee grinds from the freezer, I realized I was chewing on my fingernails again and stopped. When I studied them, I saw that they were already severely chewed like I had been gnawing on them for days, and maybe I had. I sighed, wondering if I should just give into my old habit, and poured the coffee grinds into a fresh filter.

I watched the coffee drip into the pot for awhile, my thoughts eventually wandering to Liz again. I suddenly decided to call her and after a few rings, I got her voicemail. "Hey Liz, just seeing if everything is okay. I'm feeling kind of like a psychotic boyfriend right now, but I'm a little worried that you didn't show up for work. I have a lot to tell you. Bye." I hung up. I wasn't sure if I was going to tell her everything, but maybe that would give her some incentive to call me back. If she got the message, I was almost positive that she'd take the bait. When the coffee maker started hissing and making its last hoorah, I realized I was chewing on my nails again and I growled at myself in frustration. With sudden purpose, I opened my pantry and grabbed a box of sea salt. I was going to cover the entire apartment in the stuff if there was any chance it'd stop a demon from entering. An uneasy feeling that I just couldn't shake was starting in the pit of my stomach.

The next day I awoke with a start and grabbed for my alarm clock. 5:14 PM, it read. "Shit!" I said, scrambling out of bed. As soon as I said that, I realized it was Wednesday, my day off. I sighed and slumped back onto the covers. I was waking up later and later every day, but I'd never woken up _this_ late. I'd have to start setting my alarm clock for four.

I found my phone buried in my bed and saw a missed call. I hoped it was from Liz, but no. I sighed again. It was from my mom. I listened to her voicemail message. "Hey honey, making sure you're still up for dinner tonight with the family. We're meeting at Kendall's at seven, in case you forgot. If I don't hear from you, I'll assume you'll be there."

I _had_ forgotten. I deleted the message and moseyed out of bed for the second time. I had plenty of time to get ready, so I decided I'd try to look nice. Kendall's was an old house made into a nice restaurant and one of the Hansen family's favorite dinner spots when Mom felt like splurging. It wasn't near as expensive as Angel Oak, but I thought the food was better. I guess if you love steak and don't work there, you might love Angel Oak, but I love Southern food from Kendall's. Give me the country fried stuff any day.

I combed through my closet a few minutes before choosing a navy blue tube top dress that was tight around the top and fell loosely a few inches above the knee. It would keep me cool in this unbearable heat, but was still appropriate for a family dinner. I tucked away the cheap cross in my purse for safekeeping and replaced it with some of my favorite jewelry: gold earrings with small, round sapphire stones that I had gotten for my birthday a few years ago and a thin gold bracelet. I took time on my hair, using a curling iron to produce tight curls going from roots to ends. Even though I held every curl for almost a minute, my hair doesn't hold a curl well, and my tresses ended up being soft and loose by the time I was done. I sprayed the loose curls with hair spray and prayed that they wouldn't be straight and flat by the time I got to the restaurant. I didn't apply a lot of makeup, but what I did put on was carefully applied; concealer over those ever-darkening circles, bronzer and mascara as always, and a dab of clear lip-gloss. I looked myself over in the mirror and gave myself an approving nod. I didn't look half bad. I grabbed my purse and after staring between a pair of comfy black flip-flips and a pair of low-heeled pumps, I finally slipped on the flip-flops and headed out the front door.

Kendall's is tucked away on Queen Street just a few blocks from my apartment. If it weren't for the sign at the front reading "Kendall's" with their lunch and dinner hours below it, you would assume it was just another old house. It's painted a pale cornflower blue with a white doorframe, white window frames, and a white balcony with a black door and shutters. Old gas lamps are bolted on each side of the front door, and small flames wave back and forth inside glass. As I walked up its walkway, taking in the beautiful house, I smiled and remembered why I loved Charleston. I wouldn't say I'm very well-traveled, but I've traveled enough to appreciate its exceptional charm.

"Cara!" I turned to see my sister and her new husband, Scott, coming up the walkway, holding hands. She was dressed in a pink flower-printed dress, tall nude heels, and wore her hair in a neat pony-tail. Scott is one of those fraternity boys from a family with old money, who wears things like salmon colored shirts and pastel pants with embroidered whales on them. He's nice enough, don't get me wrong, but sometimes I wonder what drew Jessie to him. On this particular evening he looked decently normal in dress slacks, a blue button-up shirt, and a navy tie with his hair parted off center. He's kind of cute in the very clean-cut Southern kind of way, which really isn't my type. I had always thought my type was more of the rugged outdoorsy type—well, until I had met Caymn. I mentally shook myself, trying to rid my brain of him, but my attempts were hopeless.

Jessie let go of Scott's hand to hurry up the steps and give me a hug, her clacking high heels making it a humorously slow process. "I've missed you so much!" she said, embracing me. I squeezed her back, realizing how much I had missed her, too. I missed my best friend. I couldn't wait to get some alone time so we could talk. So much had happened in the past week and a half, and I needed my sister to confide in. If anyone would know how to help me or get my mind straight, Jessie would. When we pulled back, she grabbed my hand. "You look so beautiful!" she exclaimed.

I looked down at myself, smoothing my dress though it didn't need it. "Thank you," I said. "Not sure why."

"Doesn't she look beautiful, Scott?" Jessie asked.

I glanced at Scott and noticed he was staring at me strangely, lips slightly parted. "You look very nice, Cara," he finally said. I caught his eyes and he let them drift lower, making me think he was taking me all in with appreciation. I was so caught off guard with that look, especially it being from Scott, that I hoped I'd imagined it.

"She looks more than nice," Jessie said, smiling at me and unaware of her ogling husband behind her. "Cara, you look more beautiful than I've ever seen you." That was the third time she had said _beautiful_.

"Um, thank you," I said again, not comfortable with this sudden attention.

My parents came walking up the street then, smiling at one another and all but glowing in their admiration of each other. I smiled and waved at them with my free hand.

"Seriously, what has changed about you?" Jessie persisted, tugging my hand to get my attention. She narrowed her eyes at me, searching my face. She was relentless.

"I honestly don't know," I answered. It was the truth. Though I was pretty sure nothing physically had changed, something _had_ changed. The only thing that I could figure was that maybe the curses had altered how people had previously seen me.

"Hello, darlings!" my mom said, walking up the walkway.

Bruce came up behind her, his hands on each of her shoulders. "What are we waiting for?" he belted out. "Let's go inside! I'm starving."

Jessie dropped my hand and I was free to open the door. A hostess stood at the front, smiling. "Five?" she asked cheerfully.

"Yes, and we have a reservation," my mom said. "The Hansens."

"All right, come this way," she said. Kendall's was set up very differently from most restaurants, considering it had been a house. Instead of knocking down the walls and making a large dining room like in a typical restaurant, the owners kept it as it was built so that most often you'd have your own private room. We were brought to a rectangular table in a back room, large enough to seat six but with one of the chairs missing. The hostess told us our waitress would be with us shortly and hurried off to her post.

"Cara, you look pretty," my mom said, sitting next to me at the table.

"Thanks Mom, so do you!"

"No, but you look like you're glowing! Tell me, is there a dashing young man that's come into your life?" She had a mischievous grin on her face.

I thought of a particularly handsome man that I'd met recently, but then I frowned at the thought. "A dashing young man? What century are we in, Mom?"

"Ooh, but you didn't say no…" she teased.

"Do I have to, Mom?" I all but snarled. "No! There is no man in my life!" I surprised myself at my own ferocity, not sure where this outburst of anger was coming from. Maybe it was the constant badgering. Maybe it was the stress building up. Or maybe it was that I had instantly thought of Caymn. There could never be a relationship with him, and I was mad at myself for even thinking about him in a romantic way. Everyone was staring at me, I quickly realized. I took a deep breath, trying to release my anger. "I'm sorry, Mom," I murmured. "I'm just stressed out lately."

"Are you having those dreams again?" Jessie asked casually. Mom and she had had a discussion about me, no doubt.

"Yes," I sighed. "Something like that. I've been having a weird week. I don't know what's wrong with me." I looked down at my menu.

"It's okay," my mom said quietly. The way she said it so timidly made me feel a little stab of guilt, but then I caught myself. No, I was so tired of her making me feel guilty for not having a boyfriend. It wasn't fair. "Well, are your eyes better at least?" she asked.

"What's wrong with your eyes?" Jessie asked before I could answer.

"I've been seeing spots in my vision and yes, they are better," I said. "Gone, actually. So that's been good, at least."

"So what else has been going on?" Jessie asked, resting her elbow on the table and laying her chin in her hand, giving me her full attention. I glanced up to see Bruce and Scott already ignoring us and talking about the menu. My mother's attention was still on me.

"Okay, this sounds crazy, but I think a waitress at Angel Oak might have been kidnapped." I hadn't even realized that I had considered it a possibility until it was suddenly out of my mouth.

"Kidnapped?" Mom almost yelled in surprise.

"Mom, shhh!" I said. Bruce glanced toward us again before Scott brought him back into their conversation about the menu. I'm not sure why, but I didn't want to make this a family discussion. I continued, speaking softly. "This girl at my work, Liz, may have been kidnapped."

"How do you know?" Jessie asked, and I didn't miss the skepticism in her voice.

"I don't know for sure. But this strange guy at the bar, who has only come a few times, asked about her two nights ago. Then last night she didn't show up for her shift."

"Oh my gosh," my mom said. "Have you called the police?"

"Wait," Jessie said, raising her hand in a gesture that said, _Stop._ "Is she that waitress you've told me about that always shows up late and never gets fired?" Jessie asked.

"Well, yeah," I admitted.

"Mom, this girl probably didn't get kidnapped," Jessie said, then looked back at me. "From what you've told me about her in the past, I'll bet she just blew off her shift." I didn't like how she instantly dismissed me, like I was always overdramatic or something. I wanted to believe she was right and Liz hadn't been kidnapped—after all, it was the most logical answer—but nothing that had happened in the past week and a half had been logical. It occurred to me for the first time that Jessie might not believe me if I told her what had happened while she had been on her honeymoon. The thought made me feel…I don't know, sad?

"Hell, maybe she ran off with that guy you said has been coming in!" Jessie added, shrugging a shoulder.

I found myself clenching my teeth tightly together and tried to release my sudden anger with an exhale. _I will not let that bother me, because I have no reason to, _I told myself.

"If she doesn't show up at her next shift, maybe you should talk to the police," suggested Mom. "Or at least try to find out what happened to her."

"Yeah," I muttered.

Suddenly, a waitress walked in, pen and notepad in hand. "Hi, what can I get y'all to drink?" Jessie, Scott, and I ordered wine. Bruce ordered a beer and my mom stuck with water, as she always does. We also ordered a plate of fried green tomatoes to share. _Mhmm._

Bruce and Scott chatted about football for awhile, Jessie gushed about the honeymoon, and my mom listened and asked questions at the appropriate times. I sat back quietly, sipping my wine, deep in thought. The waitress took our dinner order, poured me another glass of wine, and brought the food. Most of the dinner went on without me contributing in the conversation.

"Carebear, you seem different," Mom said, bringing me out of my thoughts. The waitress appeared over my shoulder and Jessie asked her to pour us more wine before I could stop her.

"I do?" I asked with little interest in my voice.

"Yes, what's different?" she asked.

_Well, I don't know, Mom. I am starting to think my father could have been a demon and maybe I'm turning into one, but besides that, I don't know! _I tried to imagine my mom around my age and wondered what my father might have looked like to her. Had he been as beautiful as Caymn? A thought occurred to me…_what if Caymn was my father? Was that possible? _

"Cara?" Mom asked. I realized my face was twisted up in a grimace. I quickly feigned a smile. "I don't know what's different, Mom."

"I asked her the same thing.Something_ is _different," Jessie accused, looking at me too intently as she took a sip of her wine.

"You remind me of your father a little bit," my mom said suddenly. This I hadn't expected. She had never said anything like that before.

"Really?" I asked. I was strangely a little happy to hear it.

"Your father felt so influential. He had such a strong presence, so strong that I could feel his energy before I even laid eyes on him. It was nothing like I'd ever experienced from another person," she said, eyes unfocused before she shot a wary glance toward her husband, as if she were double-crossing my stepfather just by mentioning my birth father's existence. This was probably the reason I, too, was so uncomfortable talking about it with anyone outside the family. It seemed like a dirty secret, even now. I could see as well as feel her sudden mood change, and I thought she might be regretting having brought him up. "I didn't learn much about him, but I remember that."

Her saying that only strengthened my conjecture that my father was a demon. Maybe my mom was more intuitive than I gave her credit for. "So you feel that way around me now?" I asked. "This…energy?"

"As I'm looking at you, I sense it. I can't even explain what it is exactly," she said. I must have looked concerned, because she patted my hand and reassuringly said, "Don't worry, honey, I think it's a good thing." But I wasn't as sure.

Bruce had paid the waitress at that point and suddenly he and Scott were standing up, ending our conversation. I took a few last sips of my wine before standing and collecting my purse. The room spun slightly and I thought to myself that I might have drunk too much.

"Scott, would you mind if I stayed out with Cara for a little bit?" Jessie said, then turned to me. "Maybe we could go get another glass of wine?"

I started to object, but Scott cut me off. "How would you get home?" he asked her.

"We could take you home, Scott," Mom said. "And you could leave the car with Jessie."

"Yeah!" Jessie agreed and grabbed my arm. "That works."

I was very conscious of the sun setting outside. If I stayed out much longer I might have to walk back to my apartment alone in the dark again and I preferred to not do that. Not until I had some things sorted out. Not until I was sure I was safe out there.

"Jessie, I'm really tired," I said, feigning a yawn.

"It's not even eight thirty!" she said. "We'll make it quick, anyway."

As we walked to leave, Bruce warned Jessie not to drink too much and drive and that there was no shame in calling a cab. When we were outside everyone started saying their goodbyes, everyone but my mom ignoring me. She gave me a parting squeeze, and then everyone was walking away.

"Okay, let's go." Jessie tugged my arm toward King Street as everyone else walked to the parking garage across the street.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"I don't know. Let's go to Enoteca! It's close."

I groaned. Enoteca was a fancy little wine bar that was owned by Frank Long, the owner of Angel Oak _and_ also my boss. For once I was dressed nicely enough to get through the door, but I didn't want to go there. Jessie let go of my arm, but ignored my protest and we walked a few minutes in silence. I kept my eyes on the sidewalk, willing myself not to trip over any loose stones or cracks.

"So what's happened to you since I've been gone?" The way she said it sounded off. She was asking me about my appearance again, not wanting to know what I'd been up to.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Um, I'm not sure," she said, voice oozing with sarcasm. "My big sister suddenly looks and acts completely different—"

"I don't look completely different," I objected.

"Fine," she said, still sarcastic. "You don't look _completely_ different, but you are different. That's not the point! You're hiding something from me."

"I am not!" I said. She was right, I was hiding something from her, but she wouldn't believe me if I told her. More than anything, I didn't want to give in, because I didn't like her attitude.

"Tell me," she said, stopping me in the middle of the sidewalk, forcing other pedestrians to maneuver around us. "Did you get some kind of minor plastic surgery? Botox? Microdermabrasion treatments?"

"What?" I said, glancing around to make sure no one was hearing us. "That's insane!"

"Is it?" she challenged. "What's crazy is my sister has done something to appearance and won't tell me what!"

"If something is so different about me, then you should be able to tell what it is, right? You tell me! What is actually different about me?" Like her, I wanted to know what was different. I really wanted to know what everyone was seeing that I apparently couldn't.

She studied me—no, glared at me. "I don't know, you tell me!" she crossed her arms over her chest.

This was ridiculous. I'm not sure if it was the wine or not, but suddenly I felt angry. No, _furious._ "I've wanted to be in your shoes our whole lives, Jessie!" I yelled, my body beginning to tremble. In only a second's time, everything I had suppressed bubbled up to the surface; all the cute boys chasing her, all the teachers that praised her, and all the friends that surrounded her. All while everyone in the world seemed to pass me by without a second glance. "I've always wanted to look more like you! I've wanted to be your height, have your tan skin! I would have killed to have your eyes!" I hadn't meant for it to come out in a scream, but I suddenly couldn't control my voice. I glared at her and I felt heat in my face as tears threatened to spill.

She stared at me, open mouthed. "Cara?" she finally said, her voice faltering. Her tone and expression didn't fit the context.

"What?" I spat.

"Your eyes…"

"What about them?" I snapped.

"They're blue," she whispered.

_Blue? _What was she talking about? Jessie started digging through her purse, not taking her eyes off my face. She pulled out a little compact case, opened it, and shoved it at me. She did all of this without taking her eyes off me. I grabbed it and looked at myself in the little mirror. _No, it couldn't be_. I angled my face toward a street lamp. The bright blue eyes I saw in the mirror didn't fit. They looked identical to my sister's, but on my face they seemed alien. The image didn't bring me some sort of joy that you might think since I was someone who had always wanted blue eyes. It was an alarming sight.

"What…" I didn't have words.

"You were yelling at me and they just, just…" Jessie was at a loss for words as well. A moment passed and finally she exclaimed, "They just turned blue!"

I almost couldn't stop staring at myself. I noticed another group of people walking around us on the sidewalk, and it brought me away from the mirror, finally.

"I want to go home," I said, suddenly aware that we were acting like two crazy, drunk people in the middle of the sidewalk, yelling and carrying on. She nodded, probably having come to the same conclusion. Without saying another word, we made a beeline for my apartment, jaywalking across the street when there was a break in the line of cars. She didn't say anything until I was unlocking my apartment door. "What is happening, Cara?"

"I really don't know," I answered truthfully.

"Look at me," she said and I looked at her as the door swung open.

"Your eyes are back to normal," she said.

I walked into the apartment first, dropping my purse by the door as I went. The following thuds indicated that she also dropped her purse before shutting the door behind her. I headed for the bathroom mirror, not letting myself be slowed down for anything. When I met the mirror, I saw the face and eyes I was familiar with.

"That was crazy," Jessie whispered as she slid up behind me. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know," I answered.

"You don't even sound like you're weirded out by this!" she exclaimed, flinging her arms up.

I was "weirded out" by it, but I think my wine buzz dulled my ability to react. "I just said 'I want your eyes' and I had them?" I asked.

"That's what you said. And as you said it, your eyes just, just…" She was at a loss for words again.

"I want your eyes," I said to the mirror, trying to will myself into having blue eyes again. A moment went by and nothing happened.

"You were a little bit more angry," she told me.

"I want your eyes!" I screamed at my reflection. I half expected the mirror to shatter like it did in the movies, but nothing happened.

I looked at Jessie in the mirror. _She's so pale_, I thought. _Like she's seen a ghost. _For a moment I wondered why that was, my brain working sluggishly in my state of intoxication. It finally occurred to me that she was frightened. Maybe even frightened of me! If I told her that demons were real and they were walking, talking beings among us, would she believe me? I really had no real way of convincing her. If I actually could convince her, would the knowledge benefit her in any way? No. If anything, it might make her life more disastrous, like mine! At the very least, she would see the world in a new light that I wish I didn't see it in. She already couldn't handle what was going on, and she knew nothing. No, I couldn't tell her. Jessie wasn't ready for this new part of my life.

"Jessie, I'm sorry, but I think we should call it a night."

"How can you want to call it a night after that? Don't you want to figure this out?" she asked.

"I do," I admitted. "But I want to do it alone." There was hurt in her eyes, but I ignored that look as I motioned a hand toward the open door, signaling her to leave. Her face twisted up into an ugly expression and she stomped out, slamming the bathroom door behind her. I didn't hear anything for a few minutes, but stared at myself in the mirror, willing something to happen. Finally, I heard the front door slam shut.

I suddenly burst out crying. I'm not normally an emotional person, at least not often, and the sudden onset of tears actually surprised me. I collapsed against the wall, covering my face to sob into my hands. I ended up on the floor, my whole body racking with my sobs. I wasn't sure if it was the alcohol, but I had never cried so hard in my life. _What is happening to me?_

"I'm the one who can't handle it," I said to myself when finally I couldn't cry anymore, my voice thick with emotion. "I'm the one."


	9. Chapter 9

Nine

A week went by without an event, but that didn't make it an average week. I spent even more time alone than normal, Liz not having come back to work and Jessie never calling to hang out. I knew I should've called and apologize to Jessie. I didn't want us to not be talking to each other, but I also had no idea how to tell her what was going on, so I put it off.

On Wednesday, I woke up and left my apartment, starting the day off by walking to the corner store to get some snacks, for lack of anything else to do. In my groggy state, I passed the store without realizing it. When I finally looked around and realized where I was, I made an aggravated sound aloud, but kept walking.

_Since I'm walking this way, I'll see if Liz is home_. I knew that she wouldn't be home, but a tiny part of me hoped. I almost hoped that she was hiding out and boozing on wine, because at least then I would know she was safe. Hell, I'd even have been be a little relieved if she'd relapsed on drugs if that meant she hadn't been kidnapped.

I called her as I started getting close. This time it didn't even ring and went straight to voicemail, followed by a computerized voice saying, _this mailbox is full_. I was disconnected before I could even hang up. When I looked up from my phone, I saw her house and that someone was walking out, a dark-haired woman in grubby clothes, struggling a little to carry a large vacuum down the three steps.

"Hey, excuse me!" I said, quickening my pace.

The vacuum clattered down the stairs and she set it right side up on the sidewalk. When she turned her face to me she smiled politely. She was a pretty, older woman probably in her fifties, with tan skin and dark brown hair pulled into a loose ponytail.

"I'm one of Liz's friends. Is she home?"

Her brow furrowed and she frowned. "No, she isn't in," she said simply.

"Well, have you seen her?" I pressed.

She sighed and looked toward the harbor. "It's not really my business and I shouldn't give out information about her, but…" She met my eyes again, concern showing plain on her face. "I don't see her most times I come, so normally I wouldn't think anything of it, but she usually leaves a check for me. I cleaned anyway, because I have been cleaning for her family for a long time."

That was a little bit more information than was appropriate, but I dismissed the inappropriateness, as the information was to my advantage. "Maybe she forgot?" I offered.

"Maybe." She rolled the vacuum to her green minivan with maid service stickers on it while she talked. "But the strangest part is, I don't think anything's been touched since last week. Her bed was still made and _that'_s definitely a first." I helped her pick up the vacuum and set it in the back, and she closed the hatch over it. "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome," I said and smiled weakly.

She went to get into her car. "Know what I think?" she said, turning back to me.

"No, what?" I asked.

"She's probably just staying with her family this week. That's a good family, the Long family. They stick together."

I nodded and kept my smile in place as best as I could. Maybe Liz was spending the week with her family. Another thought occurred to me: _maybe she _had_ relapsed and gone to rehab_. When you go to rehab, you give up your phone and you lose all contact with the outside world, except your close family. Maybe that's what Liz had called me about before she had so suddenly vanished. I sighed loudly, feeling some of my tension release. That had to be what had happened. "You're probably right," I said, finding it easy to sound reassuring. "Well, goodbye."

"Goodbye," she said and got into her car, shutting the door as I started walking again. I walked past the last few houses on the street, past the small park to where King Street came to an end at Murray Street (or the Charleston Battery, if you're a local). This area overlooking the Charleston Harbor was bustling with tourists, who unknowingly always came when the weather was the worst: the summer. Too hot and muggy to enjoy the sights, that's for sure. I leaned over the railing, looking into the water a few feet below. The sun was getting low, not too low where I would want to be safe at my apartment, but low enough for it to get in my eyes when I looked toward the harbor. The sun was also hot on my skin, almost painful, and I knew I'd have to run to the shade soon or I'd be sunburned tomorrow.

I sighed loudly, feeling like I couldn't escape this worry I was holding onto. Liz had gone missing right after _he_ had asked about her. Even if the most logical and likely scenario was that Liz had gone back to rehab, it wouldn't be right to try to just hope that that was the case and not look into it. Maybe I could contact her family somehow. If she wasn't at rehab, then what would I do?

The sudden ringing coming from my bag stopped my thoughts and I fished my cell phone out. _Tansy_, the screen read.

"Hello?"

"Cara," Tansy's voice came through. "It's me, Tansy."

"I know," I answered. "What's up?"

"Oh, okay, right. Um, would you like to come over for dinner tonight?" When I didn't answer right away, she added, "It's kind of important."

An hour later, and just before the sun set, I was knocking on the door of Tansy's little brown house. I stared at the green door while I waited, my eyes fixed on the wreath with the star in the center made out of sticks. A pentagram. I associated the pentagram with Satanism or evil, and I was curious why they had it on their door and what it meant to them.

Tansy opened the door and was heavily made up in black eyeliner and lipstick like she had been when I'd first met her. She was wearing a faded black shirt and purple jeans with not-so-expertly added studs and doodles drawn on them. I immediately noticed that she was sporting a new, crusty looking tattoo on the right side of her neck. It was a small symbol, which looked to me like the trinity symbol with an added ring around it. A Celtic trinity knot, I believe it's called? If she hadn't been looking straight at me, I might not have seen it through her almost shoulder-length cropped hair.

"Hey, come in," she said, opening the door wider.

"Is that a new tattoo?" I asked, walking inside.

Tansy shut the door behind me and lightly touched her neck as if she had forgotten it was there. "Yeah, it is. I gave it to myself last week. It's the Wiccan symbol for protection." Her inexpertly drawn tattoos suddenly made sense, especially the way those on one arm looked sloppier than those on the other.

"Wow, I feel like that would be so painful—tattooing yourself."

"I'm used to it," she said with a shrug.

"I don't have any tattoos, because I couldn't imagine picking anything that I'd want on my skin forever," I said.

"Well, I don't tattoo myself for the sake of making art, like some people do," she said, rubbing her arms absentmindedly. "Almost all my tattoos have to do with life lessons that I want to remember, some of them spells that I want to have on a moment's notice. I guess in my own way, it's art; the story and lessons of Tansy McGee." I had noticed that there were hardly any designs, mostly just writing. She was like a walking, talking journal! I had the urge to lift her arm and look more closely at the words, but that might be inappropriate. If she were taller and more at my eye-level, they would have been easier to make out. And some, I was sure, had to be in a different language. No one's handwriting was just that sloppy. "My dad hates my tattoos. My mom doesn't much like them either, but I think she likes the idea of me writing things I learn. I think she prefers me to write them on paper though—I guess we'll wait for my mom in the kitchen," she added, leading me toward the kitchen.

Now that the lights were on inside the house, I could see that even though the McGee family wasn't rich, they weren't as poor as I had originally thought. They definitely spent their money differently than most. The couch was worn and on the verge of cracking with old age and heavy usage, for example. The living room was altogether simple and gave the impression that they were low-income, but the kitchen was nothing short of extravagant and appeared to have been remodeled within the last few years.

The kitchen and dining room were a conjoined space, the kitchen on the right and the dining area on the left. The far right wall had whitewashed brick that reminded me of the stone circle in the backyard. The walls were off-white, but most everything else, the wood floor and cabinets, were rich brown in color. On the wall above the stove, a quote had been expertly painted: _"An it harm none, do what ye will." _I felt like I had seen that quote before, but I couldn't recall where.

One large copper pot sat on the stove, steaming and filling the room with a delicious smell. It smelled spicy and sweet and my stomach grumbled.

The table and chairs at the dining area were brown, which matched the off white and brown tones in the kitchen. Against the wall on the far left was a large shelf like you'd see for separating mail. In every small slot was a little jar, at least a hundred of them, all containing spices, herbs, and dried flowers. If it was a spice rack, it was the craziest one I'd ever seen!

"Wow, your mom must be very into cooking," I guessed, looking at all the spices and herbs.

"You can kind of say that. But it's not just food she likes to cook," Tansy said. I stared at her, and seeing my empty expression, she added, "She also cooks spells."

"Oh," I said, not sure of what else to say. This whole witch and spell thing was still something I was a little unsure about. Growing up with my on-and-off religious mother, I'd heard that people who believed they were witches were either crazy or worshipped the devil. Though I believed in demons, recently more than ever, real witches were harder to swallow.

"A witch doesn't exactly fly on a broomstick or make love potions," a voice said as if reading my mind. "Most witches' spells are spiritual, sort of like prayer."

I turned to see who I guessed was Tansy's mother, though she looked like she might be her hippie older sister. She was very short, like Tansy, no taller than five feet. Her strawberry blond hair was put in a simple half-up do, the hair around her face pulled out of the way, while the rest trailed down her back. The blue maxi dress she wore had flow-y sleeves and showed the barest hint of bare feet underneath. Her features were pixy-like, and her blue eyes were surprisingly warm. Only the barest hint of wrinkles around her eyes and mouth hinted that she was older. I could easily picture this woman tending to the garden outside or even dancing around a fire in the moonlight. I knew instantly that there was something different about her, my brain somehow registering her as_ other._

"I'm Tansy's mother, Darlene," she said extending her arm for a shake. I put my hand in hers and her shake was surprisingly firm for such a small hand.

"Hi, Ms. Darlene, I am Cara."

"I know who you are," she said. "I would have recognized you in a crowd of faces… and you can just call me Darlene! Ms. Darlene makes me sound so old."

I blinked at her. _She would recognize me in a crowd of faces? _That was odd. "Okay, _Darlene_," I said, trying to leave out the _Ms._, though it almost pained me to do so. Calling someone's mom by just her first name is frowned upon in the South, especially in my household.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Cara," she said and went toward the pot on the stove to give it a stir. "I hope you like chili."

"I love chili," I answered.

"It's vegetarian," Tansy piped in. "We are strict vegetarians. But I think you'll still like it. It's my favorite."

"It's called Apple Autumn Chili," Ms. Darlene said. "It tastes a lot like regular chili, but sweeter and with slivers of green apple."

I made an approving _mmm_ sound.

"Mom, you probably don't remember what regular chili tastes like," Tansy said and they laughed together. I smiled. You could see the love and warmth between them, something you don't always get to witness between mother and daughter. Though the house and the Magee family were obviously different than my own, it felt nice to be there. The whole house exuded a vibe of warmth and happiness.

Darlene scooped the chili into three green bowls for us and we all sat at the dinner table, eating and making small talk about the summer heat and gardening. When I was the first one to finish my bowl, Darlene set her spoon down and sighed. "Cara, we invited you over for more than just chili," she said. "Tansy told me everything. Your little rendezvous in the woods…"

I glanced at Tansy, who was suddenly shoveling chili in her mouth at an alarming rate.

"And your experience with the _shadow_," Darlene continued, emphasizing the one word while returning her gaze to Tansy.

I figured what she meant, but I wanted to make sure. "What's a shadow?" I asked, looking from one to the other. "I mean, I know what a shadow is, but…"

"I don't mean the shadow you leave on the ground," she said. "I am talking about evil spirits. Tansy knows about shadows, and I was simply a little disappointed that she referred to them as demons." I could feel a sudden tension in the room, like we were stirring up a past argument.

"Well, the book had horned, red figures, Mom. Don't get mad if that was what I assumed," Tansy said, glancing up at her mom while hovering over her empty chili bowl.

"If you don't mind me asking, what's the difference?" I asked.

Ms. Darlene looked like she wanted to say something to Tansy, but with some effort, she tore her eyes away from Tansy to look at me. "A demon is from the Christian religion. We don't believe in the Christian God, Jesus, or Satan. Therefore, we don't believe demons exist. You see, _shadows_ are the bad entities that roam the earth," she explained, putting a lot of emphasis on that one word again.

_Tomato, Tomata_, I wanted to say, but I thought better about saying it aloud. The way Darlene kept looking at Tansy, that wasn't a can of worms I wanted to open.

"I'm only a little disappointed in Tansy, because she should know this. I guess this is my fault for not informing her, but demons don't exist. Shadows exist. That is why we make a book of shadows, to record our séances and spells that fight against them. _That is what you stole from my friend, Amaryllis. Her book of shadows._" The last part was aimed at Tansy and held a biting edge.

"I didn't steal it, Mom. Becca did!" Tansy said, dropping her spoon into her empty bowl.

"Right, your friend stole it. Still, you should have come to me."

Tansy made an exasperated groan. We were definitely digging up a previous argument, and I felt slightly awkward. I vaguely wondered why I had been invited and what this had to do with me.

Again, as if reading my mind, Darlene said, "I'll tell you why I've asked you here."

Tansy stood and started collecting the dirty bowls and spoons. I started to help, grabbing the cups, but Darlene stopped me. "Let Tansy do that," she said, touching my hand lightly. Her touch was gentle and soothing, a mother's touch, but I sensed something else. Like maybe behind this little pixy-like woman, there was something stronger. I let the cups go and Tansy scooped them up, awkwardly juggling them and the bowls.

"I've asked you to come here, because I had a dream about you last night—"

"_You_ had a dream about _me_," I said to clarify.

"Yes, I had what I believe is a premonition. I saw you and another girl. A girl with beautiful, long black hair—"

"Liz!" I exclaimed, my eyes widening to the size of saucers. I hadn't mentioned Liz to Tansy, had I? I was almost sure that I hadn't.

"Yes, I saw you two together in a whole different world. A city in some other dimension or something—I'm not sure. It's a world of black and neon, which was the strangest and most vivid thing I've ever dreamed. I saw you being drawn to someone—someone calling out to you—and I believe it is going to be a trap. When the voice sings to you and draws you in, you must stop yourself. Does this make sense to you?"

"Not really," I murmured. Being in some alternate universe with Liz? No, it didn't make sense at all.

"I felt a glimpse of the power, and it will be hard to resist, achingly strong, but you must say no and turn away. Or you and hundreds, maybe thousands, of others will be lost," she continued, staring off at nothing. She looked at me again and added, "I was hoping you'd be able to shed some light on this."

"The only thing that sounds familiar is Liz," I said, shrugging my shoulders. Darlene scrutinized me with her blue eyes and when I looked at Tansy, who was leaning on the counter by the kitchen sink, she had a similar expression. They were waiting for me to say something, I think, but I had no enlightening words. I wasn't sure what any of this meant!

"I went to Tansy's room as soon as I awoke this morning to tell her my dream," Darlene continued, "and she had pulled her bed to the middle of the room and had a large ring of salt around it. I knew then that something was wrong."

"I had to tell her everything," Tansy broke in. "Our curse-lifting in the woods and the…shadow."

"And as soon as I told Tansy my premonition, she knew it was you," said Darlene.

"Blond hair and black eyes is not a combination you see every day," Tansy added sheepishly. I knew that to be true. I hadn't met anyone else my whole life with blond hair and black eyes.

"This is hard for me to take in," I said. _And believe, _I thought. "I'm not sure where to go from here."

"Let's go through the book of shadows that belonged to Amaryllis. Come with me to my safe room," Darlene said, standing and motioning me to follow her into a hallway off the dining room.

"Okay," I said uncertainly.

STOP!

PLEASE REVIEW!

Also, my book is available on Amazon in both kindle and paperback version!  
>I also occasionally make the kindle edition free and plan to do so early January. All I ask is that you share it with a friend if you like it!<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

Ten

I stood and followed her into the…it wasn't exactly a hallway, because a hallway suggests a long passageway. No, this was a small middle area between three rooms, two of which were most likely bedrooms.

When Miss Darlene opened the door to the "safe room," as she called it, something spilled out and surrounded me. It wasn't wind or a certain smell, but a feeling. The only thing I can compare it to is like feeling a light bulb that has just been turned off and feeling lingering energy and warmth. It didn't feel evil, nor did it feel good, but it was definitely something.

_ Magic, _I thought.

I walked into the darkness, the energy that surrounded me giving me some sense of security. Whether it was a false sense of security or not, I did not know. With every step I felt it thicken like smoke around a burning fire. A lot of magic happened in this room, or so I was guessing. I closed my eyes for a brief moment, reveling in the feeling that hugged me and brushed my skin. When I closed my eyes, I could almost see a yellow cloud around us and where the cloud was absent. I could see where objects were—something large against the far wall in particular. A piano, maybe. I could see Darlene's shape in the smoke as well, like a shadow in the fog. There was something special about this room and her. And maybe I was special, too, if I could see what I was seeing in my mind's eye.

"_Accendo!_"she suddenly said, the strange word sounding like a command, and I opened my eyes.

_Fire. _Suddenly there was just fire in the darkness. The tiny angelic woman twirled around the room, waving one free hand, finger pointed. And as she waved her hand, flames ignited on candles. It happened so fast, like the dark room was suddenly dancing with candlelight, but I saw that she had lit them with only her one word and pointed finger. She looked at me, triumph in her eyes. She was making a believer out of me, and she knew it.

Now that I could see the room lit by fifty candles or more, I could see, rather than just feel, that this was an area they poured a lot of time and energy into. It was nothing like Lady Sage's chiropractor's office turned psychic den. No, this place looked and felt authentic. In a few seconds I took it all in. The windowless walls were painted dark green and a line of candles circled the entire room on one, endless shelf. The shiny wood floor had an expertly designed pentagram in darker wood in the middle of it. I could only imagine what the floor guys' faces might have looked like when they'd been asked for a pentagram. It looked too nice for Tansy and Darlene to have done it by themselves, but you never know—someone in their family could have been a carpenter, for all I knew.

An altar, not a piano, filled the wall opposite the door. It appeared to be a table, on top of a table, on top of another table, all covered with rich purple and gold fabric like a large satin cake. Ever tier was covered in candles, wine bottles with candles on them, small statues, crystals, a couple deer skulls, and dried flowers. Three green pillows with gold tassels lay on the floor in front of the altar so someone, or both of them and an extra person, could pray. Or spell cast? Either way, the sight was strangely beautiful. The room was pretty open; only one other corner was occupied with a large cast iron bowl that suspiciously looked like a witch's cauldron and a stack of books.

"How did you do that?" I asked, my voice coming out low and breathy.

I heard Tansy enter the room behind me. "She did her candle lighting thing?"

"Is it a trick?" I asked.

"No, not a trick. At least, not like a magician's trick," Darlene said as she started for the stack of books. "It's just a handy little invocation my mother passed to me and her mother before her. You don't come through a line of witches without learning a few things."

Tansy walked past me to stand near her mother. "I'm learning some things, slowly but surely," she said, and closed her thumb and forefinger around a candle's flame to squelch its light. "_Accendo_," she whispered while tapping the wick with one finger, and the flame returned. "But I'm not very good with invocation spells."

"It takes time," Darlene said as she picked up the top book on the stack. It was a huge, red leather book and she had to use both hands to lift it. She and Tansy both sat on the wood floor on the pentagram design, Tansy signaling me to sit with them by patting the floor next to her. I sat down as Darlene set the book before us. The front cover showed an obscene image of naked people and demons—or, um, _shadows_. It felt strange and kind of wrong somehow, sitting in a circle on a pentagram floor as we read a book of shadows. I could only imagine what my mother would say if she could see me now.

Darlene opened the book and the first page read, _Book of Shadows_. "You can see that she hand-wrote this," she said, lightly brushing the page with her fingers.

"No way," I said, leaning forward, not believing these expertly written words could have been hand written. The font was perfect, but as I looked very closely I could just barely see the dents the pen had made in the paper. "Wow."

"She had a very steady hand," Darlene said, and I thought that was a huge understatement. It was so beautifully written and the pages looked like a magical book from a fairy tale. They didn't match the very crude front cover. Though the book looked like it should be magical, I felt no magic behind it. Just a beautifully written, yet creepy journal.

"Are you sure Amaryllis won't mind us reading her book of shadows?" Tansy asked.

"Usually, I'd say yes, but in this case I don't think she'll mind."

"Why not?" Tansy and I chimed in unison, then gave each other half-hearted smiles at our timing.

"Because she's dead," Darlene said simply.

My breath hitched in my throat and Tansy gasped.

"Well, that's what I believe, anyway. She's been missing for about six years," Darlene added.

Tansy found her voice first. "How come you never told me?" she asked.

"I never thought it concerned you, and it wasn't like all of the sudden she disappeared out of our lives. I had stopped going to those coven meetings years prior to her disappearance. When one day I tried to contact her, I was told that she had been missing for awhile."

There was a moment of stunned silence. When Darlene decided that we weren't going to interrupt again, she continued, "When I met Amaryllis, we were both about thirty years old. She was a very talented and experienced white witch, but she confided in me that she hadn't always been white. Way before she was a part of our small coven, when she was a child, she grew up in a black magic practicing cult in a small Floridian town. They had done horrible things to her like raping her through adolescence, performing animal sacrifices, and the way she told me about it, I had the impression that they had done human sacrifices as well. When she was sixteen, she finally escaped them and eventually found herself here.

"The police investigated the cult when she disappeared, but came to a dead end when they learned that all of those people had either died or gone missing as well. Some of my old coven members believe that the cult fanatics caught up to Amaryllis and killed her. But I believe something much bigger and greater caught up to her—all of those black magic practitioners. By associating with black magic practice and sacrifices, I believe you make yourself susceptible to being snatched up by the darkest of the shadows."

A shiver ran down my spine and I stifled an urge to squirm.

"This also had to have happened to your friend, Liz," Darlene said, glancing at me.

I was so startled by Liz's name coming up that I froze. "What?" I asked, stupidly.

"Your friend, Liz," Darlene said again. "She's missing, isn't she?"

"Well, maybe not missing," I said, not wanting to truly believe it, even when it came from someone else's mouth. But how had she known about Liz in the first place? "Okay, maybe she is missing. I'm not sure. How do you know this?"

"She most certainly _is_ missing," Darlene said, no hint of doubt on her face. "In my premonition, I learned that this is the tenth day that her soul has been missing. When someone's soul is missing, I would assume she were dead, but I know she's not. She's not dead, but she's not here either."

_Not here? _What did that even mean? I shook my head, not sure what to make of this. "How do you know this?" I asked again.

"Both Tansy and I know things sometimes,"Darlene said, meeting eyes with her daughter.

Tansy nodded at her mom. "I told her that the spirits sometimes speak to me—to us."

They looked at me and I didn't know what to say. This was crazy talk, wasn't it? Talking to spirits and Liz's soul being missing from this world? It sounded ridiculous! Then again, Darlene knew that Liz was missing and I hadn't told her that I'd even suspected it. I hadn't even told either of them that she existed! If Liz was missing, I had a good idea of who had taken her. I had thought it to myself, but hearing it come from someone else didn't make me feel any less crazy. It made me wonder if we were all crazy!

As absurd as this woman's ideas were, I couldn't dismiss some of the things I'd seen in the past month. Snippets of memory paraded through my mind: the look of horror on Lady Sage's face, those black and red unsettling eyes in the bar, and the ugly creature in the woods. As much as I wanted to forget them, these visions would haunt me, forever changing my outlook on the world.

"What do I need to do?" I asked, strangely feeling more confident in these strangers than I would have thought possible.

Darlene started flipping pages and I glimpsed perfectly hand-written text and dark-looking drawings.

"We are going to get you to where you need to go. Not tonight, but eventually. I think I've found a spell in here that'll get you into this alternate dimension, but I'm going to have to translate the elements and incantations into English. Amaryllis wrote most of her book of shadows in Latin, probably for safety reasons. I know a lot of Latin words, but she was fluent. I believe she called this other world _Barathrum _or_ Limbus_, so I need to find that page."

"Barathrum," I whispered, trying to save the names to my memory. "Limbus."

"Ah, here is a page that interested me," she said, stopping at a page that read, "Warnings." She started to read the page aloud, "_ONE. Do not drop or leave traces of blood behind. Blood will give the shadow the ability to curse you from a distance. It can give a shadow or any dark magic practitioner power over you and make you susceptible to possession. Any blood spilt should be burned."_

I couldn't help but laugh aloud at my naivety. Tansy snorted simultaneously. Both of us knew I had unconsciously given Caymnaburus my blood a couple weeks before. As I thought about it, I realized that meant two demons probably had traces of my blood, if the demon in the woods had put curses over me.

"What?" Darlene piped.

Tansy answered before I could. "At least one already has her blood, probably two." Obviously she had come to the same realization, and I slumped, already feeling defeated.

Darlene pursed her lips as she looked at me. "Well, I guess we can't do anything about that, then. We just have to hope you won't come in contact with them when you're in Barathrum." She sighed and started flipping pages. "I guess we will skip over the warnings for now. After all, they didn't really save Amaryllis, and she wrote them."

That wasn't comforting, and I felt the beginnings of uneasiness. Was I about to make myself available to demons? Was I opening myself up to being another captured person with no way of getting home? Maybe I was already available to them, if they were casting curses on me, and I had no desire to make it worse.

Other questions came unbidden. How had I been able to see Caymnaburus's eye color like I had? How had my own eyes turned blue? How had I felt Tansy's circle fall when she hadn't? Who was that shadow in the woods, and why had he put curses on me?

"Could I be a half de—uh, shadow?" I asked, my voice coming out lower than I had intended it to.

Darlene touched my arm with her hand, trying to be comforting. "Oh, honey, why would you think _that_?"

I met Tansy's knowing eyes. "I'm allergic to silver, I'm just about allergic to sunlight, and my eyes are black."

"And isn't silver the metal that represents purity?" Tansy added. I had never heard that before, and I couldn't stop myself from feeling even more certain.

Darlene started. "That doesn't mean anything…" I didn't miss the uncertainty in her voice as she let the words hang.

I shook my head. "When Tansy lifted those curses from me, my whole life has changed. People see me differently—"

"That's true, she looks different," Tansy piped in.

"I sense things that I've never been able to sense before," I continued. "And last week, my eyes changed color."

"Your eyes changed color?" Tansy asked, leaning back and looking surprised. Darlene didn't move, but her expression made her look just as startled.

"Yes," I said, looking between both of their surprised faces. "I was angry at my sister and somehow we got on the subject of me basically being jealous of her appearance and when I yelled at her that I'd always wanted her eyes, they turned blue…they looked identical to hers."

"Mom, shadows can change their appearance, right?" Tansy added. I nodded, agreeing.

Darlene pursed her lips again for a moment, thinking it over. "Shadows are spiritual beings. They can't…" Her words trailed off.

"That thing in the woods seemed to be much more than just a spiritual being," Tansy said.

"If they can kidnap you, doesn't that mean they are not just ghostly beings, but real-life beings that can touch you and…" I didn't want to finish, pushing the thoughts of my mother with one of those creatures out of my mind. That's what they were, creatures. Was it possible for humans and demons to procreate, if the demon could change himself into a human form?

"I don't think it's possible, but…I just don't know."

"Doesn't she seem different than most people, Mom? Can't you sense something?" Tansy went on.

"I sense something different, but I just think that Cara has some gifts of her own, like maybe some psychic ability or some special intuitiveness."

"It's more than that, Mom," Tansy said.

Darlene evidently wanted to change the subject. "What I know is both of you have much to learn. Cara, if you want to know how to protect yourself from shadows and not live in fear of the night, we should start having meetings twice a week."

"Okay," I answered without a moment's hesitation.

She apparently thought I needed more convincing. "I believe that you are a strong, young girl, and you have the ability to save your friend and a lot of other trapped souls. I believe I was meant to prepare you and help you do this. Will you meet with us?"

I wasn't sure if I could do whatever she thought I was going to do in this premonition of hers, but I really wanted to know how to make protective circles. If I could better protect myself from Caymnaburus, or any shadows for that matter, I'd be resting a lot easier.

"Yes, I'll do it."

STOP!

PLEASE REVIEW!

Also, my book is available on Amazon in both kindle and paperback version!  
>I also occasionally make the kindle edition free and plan to do so early January. All I ask is that you share it with a friend if you like it!<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

Eleven

The next afternoon at 4:30, I woke up to my wailing alarm clock and groaned. I had had an especially hard time getting to sleep the previous night. Talking with Darlene and Tansy hadn't answered many questions, just stirred up new ones, and they had swarmed around my head relentlessly.

I slipped into my work outfit and tied my hair into a ponytail, not bothering with makeup. Foregoing makeup was something I didn't frequently do, but it wasn't my intention to impress anyone that day. I didn't want to do anything except go back to sleep, and I shot a longing look at my bed before I left. As I walked to work, feeling disheveled and very conscious of the humidity that very quickly made my forehead bead with sweat, two young men caught my attention. They were just two regular guys in their mid-twenties, not particularly handsome or nicely dressed. It wasn't the look of them that necessarily caught my attention, but their muttering as I walked passed.

"Damn girl, you are beautiful," one said, and I caught his gaze as he shamelessly stared.

The other one pretended to be struck into stillness, looking at me with wide eyes as if he couldn't believe how beautiful I was. It was silly, and I wondered if they were mocking me, because this had never happened to me before. I couldn't help my shy smile as heat rose into my cheeks and I muttered an embarrassed, "Thanks."

"Seriously, you are be-YU-tiful!" he called after me when I was a few buildings past them.

I blushed harder and when I walked into work, I was beaming. What was coming over everyone? Whatever it was, I couldn't help but like it. I went to clock in and as soon as I walked into the back office, I was confronted by Harrison. "You're not wearing any makeup today," he commented.

My smile faltered and I avoided his gaze as I punched my time card. "Yep," I answered, noncommittally.

"You look nice," he said. When I peeked over my shoulder at him, I noticed his stare that almost seemed hungry. I didn't like that look on his face one bit. Maybe I didn't like what was coming over everyone after all.

"Thanks," I muttered, trying to sound polite without giving him the wrong idea. Before he could say anything else, I retreated into the hallway and headed for the bar. As I stocked the bar, Tracy, a brunette waitress with a cute Southern drawl, came to chat with me.

"Did you hear?" she asked.

"Hear what?" I asked back.

"Liz has gone missing!" she exclaimed, then lowered her voice when a few customers glanced our way. "Two detectives came in asking questions. And there is a rumor going around that she might have relapsed on drugs!"

I froze, too stunned to reply. So it was true. Liz _was_ missing. I could no longer hope that she was in rehab and that Darlene was just a crazy witch-lady.

Tracy seemed to like my surprise, enjoying the fact that she was the one to deliver a little tidbit of gossip, and mistaking me for one of the other snobby waitresses. "I knew she was an alcoholic, but I had no idea she was a drug addict. I can't say I'm surprised," she went on.

This wasn't harmless gossip, and I was _not_ another snobby waitress. I wanted to grab her neck and shake her, but of course, I wouldn't do that. Instead, I gripped the bottle I had been about to put in the wine fridge a little too tightly. "Go away, Tracy," I said flatly.

Her mouth fell open a little and she stared stupidly at me. I had never stood up to her or any of the other waitresses before, no matter how much trash they talked, but she had crossed the line.

"I said, _go away_." I spoke the last between clenched teeth and found myself gripping the bottle even tighter.

Her jaw suddenly clamped shut and she twirled on her heel. She went hurriedly to tell another waitress my bad reaction, no doubt, but I didn't care. I continued to stock the bar without giving her another glance. As I put the bottle in the wine fridge, I noticed a crack in the bottle going from top to bottom. _Did I do that? _I thought, before I shook my head and laughed at myself for even thinking it. Regardless of how the crack had happened, I decided the wine might not be safe for consumption and put it aside.

When everything was stocked and cleaned two times over, I rested an elbow on the bar top with my chin on my hand. My good mood was dead and gone. I was tired from lack of sleep and already over being here. I wondered where Liz was, and against my will, I imagined her being chained in a dark cell. I tried to wipe that image from my mind and hoped that she was somewhere safe.

My eyes focused on a young customer making a beeline toward me, and I hadn't realized I had even been looking toward him till he was only a few feet away. He looked like he might be under the legal drinking age and I sighed heavily, not looking forward to this interaction.

"Hi, can I see your ID?" I said before he could spout a drink order at me.

"Well, I'm not here for a drink," he said, giving me a weak smile. If a smile could look dead tired, that's the smile he gave me. Probably the same smile I had that day. "But I wanted to see if I could ask you a few questions about my sister, Elizabeth Black."

_This was Liz's brother? _I stopped to give him a good once-over. His hair was dirty blond and cut short, and his eyes were innocently wide and brown. Though young and baby-faced, he was very handsome. Besides being uncommonly good looking, I could see no similarities between him and Liz. I also noticed the tiredness in his eyes and stance. He looked exhausted, like he was trying to make normal expressions and gestures, but hardly able to manage it. A young person his age shouldn't act like that, but I guess if your sister were missing, you would.

"Yeah, I know your sister," I said, then quickly added. "She's a friend of mine."

He seemed to perk up at that, not in actual happiness, but in anticipation. "Well, have you seen her?" he asked.

"Not in over a week," I said, frowning. I wanted to tell him more, but what could I tell him? All I had were suspicions and out loud, they sounded crazy.

He slid into a stool and put his face in his hands, elbows resting on the bar. I thought he might be about to cry, but when he wiped his face with his hands and looked up, he revealed his red, tearless face. "Look," he said, looking straight into my eyes. "I know you probably know about Liz's alcohol problem—" then he huffed, "and her drug problem, but I do not believe she would just run away without telling me. My parents, maybe, but if she could, I think she would tell me if she was leaving town."

I nodded, but kept eye contact, though it was hard to look at the raw sadness in his eyes. He must be wondering if she had been kidnapped, as I was wondering the same thing.

"She even called me in the middle of the night," he continued. "But I just thought I'd call her back in the morning. I just feel like, if only I had picked up, maybe she would still be here—I don't even know why I'm telling you this," he said, shrugging and finally looking away.

"She called me too," I said, then wondered if I should have admitted that. "It was while I was working on Monday night."

"Me too!" he exclaimed, then slumped lower in despair. "She called me at like—" he glanced through his phone for a moment. "One thirty-two in the morning."

I scrolled through my call list as well. "She called me at one twenty-nine." We met each other's wide eyes.

"Did she leave a message?" he asked.

I shook my head sadly.

"Me neither!" he said, sounding exasperated. "Why wouldn't she have left a voicemail? If something was wrong, why wouldn't she tell anyone?"

_Because she knew she was about to leave, but she didn't know how to say goodbye or explain where she was going? _I guessed. If she was calling people, she must've known she was leaving. Had Caymnaburus let her call her friends and family before he took her away?

"I just hate that the police seem to think she must have just gone on a drug spree and skipped town. They think there is a possibility someone _might_ have kidnapped her, but they don't seem very worried about it."

"Hey," I said, and with some effort he met my eyes again. "I don't think she skipped town to go on a drug spree, and I'm going to do _everything _in my power to find her," I said. I was glad I could say that with complete honesty even if I didn't want to tell him all my thoughts about her disappearance.

One corner of his mouth perked in a slight smile. "Thank you," he said quietly. I smiled weakly back, and I felt a sort of kinship between us then.

A young couple parked themselves at the bar, just a couple seats from him, and I asked him if he would hold on a moment while I served them.

Liz's brother nodded and waited patiently while I got the drink order of the couple, who found it hard to keep their eyes off each other. I served them their drinks as quickly as I could and went back to the young boy with wide, brown eyes. I noticed that though they weren't the same color as Liz's, the shape of their eyes was similar.

"My name is Henry," he said quietly.

"I'm Cara," I said and we awkwardly shook hands over the bar. I stood there for another moment, running through the past couple weeks in my mind and trying to decide if there was anything I could tell him. There wasn't.

"Okay," he said suddenly. "If you can call me if you hear anything, I'd appreciate that." After scribbling a number on a napkin, he smiled weakly and was gone.

The following couple of weeks I practiced magic with Darlene and Tansy in all my spare time.

Darlene explained to me that magic came from the energy of the earth, and with much practice, you could bring the energy into yourself. She had a few names for this energy: the life force, cosmic energy, but she most frequently called it the _universal force_. I imagined that bringing the universal force into yourself was like pulling on a thread of energy from the ground and bringing into your chest, winding it in an already existing ball of yarn inside yourself. Once you were able to collect the energy from the earth and combine it with your own energy, the next step was to hold it. If you didn't hold it, the energy could unwind itself out of you as quickly as you brought it in. Magic could be done simply by bringing in the universal force and willing things to be so, like lighting candles, shutting doors, and more. If you didn't hold onto the universal force, you could still use magic, but your magic would be more or less unpredictable. Darlene had stressed that practicing unpredictable magic was not something you wanted to do. Maybe instead of lighting a candle or shutting a door, you'd set the whole room on fire or slam the door right off its hinges.

Darlene said that it had taken her many, many years to become one with the deities through rituals and through that to become in tune with the overall life force. With all her practice, she had learned how to wind the force into herself and hold it. Tansy had learned to wind it into herself and hold it, also, but she said she couldn't seem to bring enough energy into herself yet, which was why her abilities were still just a fraction of her mother's.

When I first collected the universal force into myself and held it, which I imagined was like closing a door with my ball of energy safely inside myself, and lit a candle with the point of my finger, Darlene and Tansy had been in shock. Tansy had just about exploded into cheers and praised my natural ability, but her mother seemed more than a little uneasy. I couldn't be sure, but I think she was afraid of me being able to collect energy without doing rituals or praising the deities.

I realized that the universal force manifested itself as the familiar buzzing sensation through my body and that I had been in tune with it the moment the curses had been lifted. I explained that to Darlene, who was obviously relieved to hear this.

"I believe when you were very young, the universal force was cut off from you with a curse. Now that you know the absence of it, you can identify it that much easier," Darlene explained. "Even that being said, I think you are especially in tune."

"That makes sense," I admitted. "But why would someone want to put that curse on me?" The very thought of the demon in the woods sent shivers down my spine, and I heard rats screeching in my head. I was forever going to be scared of rats now.

"I don't truly know, but my best guess is someone, maybe that shadow in particular, was trying to hide you. You were blocked from your own abilities and the life force, and in turn it blocked you from most people's notice. You said that people seem to see you differently now that the curses are lifted. Maybe being completely separated from the universal force almost shields you from people's notice. Like maybe they can physically see you, but not physically feel you. It probably has made people you've come in contact with feel disconnected from you and in a way, see you differently. I wish I had met you before the curses had been lifted, because then I'd have a better idea of what it was like."

"I see and feel her completely differently," Tansy told her mother, then looked toward me. "Before, you felt strangely absent. When I looked at you, it was like I could see you staring back at me, but I couldn't feel your gaze. You were like an empty vessel. Not really, but that's what you felt like. Now, I can feel your energy stronger than I can feel most other people. It's polar opposite."

I used to accidentally scare people all the time, I suddenly remembered. Walking in line at a restaurant, I would startle the person in front of me when they turned and saw me there. No one seemed to notice me until I was in their face. It made me angry that someone would put a curse on me that had changed my life so much. I tried to tell myself that it was over now and I should just be relieved. I could be normal now, except maybe even better! I was learning how to do magic. Who would have thought my life would go from so boring to so exciting?

"Hmm, very interesting," Darlene said. They were both staring hard at me and I caved into myself a little bit at their ogling. "The beauty people are suddenly seeing in you must be the beautiful, pure light that shines out. The very existence of life," Darlene explained.

"Though you are really pretty anyway," Tansy added with a smile.

I smiled back. Is it strange that I believed all of it, except the very last part?


	12. Chapter 12

Twelve

The following Saturday evening, I took some time to clean and organize my bedroom. Darlene had given me a lot of her old witch ceremonial tools that she didn't have need for anymore or had replaced. Some of the stuff I wasn't sure I was going to use, like a small altar set with everything I needed for an in-home altar, including a small table just slightly bigger than a step stool with a pentagram carved on the top. I thought it was nice gesture to give it to me, but I couldn't see myself using it. As much as she was trying to convert me into the Wicca religion, I wasn't planning on doing rituals to the god and goddess on my own. I did them when Darlene was teaching me circles, but I found it unnecessary and tiresome. She would tell me that I needed to become one with the deities so that they could protect me from being tempted by shadows, but I felt like my will to be a good person and to use my magic for good was enough. And though I believed the Wiccan way was a good way to live, preserving nature and harming none, I didn't have any proof the deities existed. After all, I didn't worship them, but I still could use the universal force. Regardless of all that, I set the altar up in my room, shoving it to the right of my TV so that if my door was open, no one would see it from the hallway, particularly my roommate when she came back from summer vacation.

Some of the other tools Darlene had given me I was looking forward to using. She had given me a scrying mirror, which is made of darkly-tinted glass in which you can sometimes see spiritual visions, similar to a crystal ball. Previously I had laughed at the idea of seeing visions in a crystal ball, but I was seeing things differently now that I had been spending so much time with Darlene and Tansy. The little black, almost opaque, square piece of glass she gave me was eight-by-eight inches and came with a little stand. I probably wouldn't be able to see anything in it, but I wasn't going to knock it until I'd tried it. Even though I prohibited myself to have lingering thoughts about it, I believe a small part of me hoped I might find out who my birth father was by using the square of dark glass.

Darlene had also given me a couple of books of very simple and traditional spells, a necklace that held an empty glass vial with a tiny cork in it that could hold an elixir, and a pack of black chalk for drawing circles. I stashed the box of black chalk in the drawer of my bedside table, but put one piece inside a pocket on my purse for emergency use. Magical circles could be made in a hurry without the rituals and without a physical marker like chalk or candles, but making circles with your mind can be unpredictable magic practice. The last thing you want to do is trap yourself in a circle with just the thing or person you're trying to protect yourself from. Or make a circle so small that you accidentally break it too early by touching it.

According to Darlene, salt could also be used to create a protective circle and was very commonly used to protect you while you made spells. In fact, it's considered cleansing and is used in most all spells. But Tansy had told it to me wrong. Salt underneath the doors and windows could possibly slow a shadow in its most solid form from entering my house, unless I for some reason invited it in. It could stop Caymn if he tried to enter in his solid form, but since it wasn't a complete circle or closed shape, it wouldn't stop him from coming through the walls. It also wouldn't deter any shadows from simply appearing or peeking in in their spectral form. It terrified me that I wouldn't be able to stop anything from coming in and seeing into my apartment, but Darlene assured me that I would be able to sense it coming before it came, since I seemed to have more intuitiveness than most. If shadows did start appearing, Darlene was teaching me how to make them leave. I was still scared of sleeping at night, but I found some comfort in having more knowledge and feeling like I was a little prepared.

I had more to organize in my bedroom than just what Darlene had given me. I had also bought a bunch of candles at Wally World that she had said I would need for my magic in the future. Most of them were just small white, tea-light candles, because apparently you shouldn't use the same candle twice for a spell. But I also bought colored ones that she had said I needed to close a circle the ritualistic way, though I doubted I would use them. As far as I could tell, my circles weren't any stronger when I did them the ritualistic way. But just in case my mentor asked, I bought the four different colored candles for the different elements: green for earth, yellow for air, red for fire, and blue for water.

I glanced at the clock by my bed. Seven o' clock. Generally I would be at work at seven on a Saturday, but I had switched shifts with another waitress so I could go to my little cousin's violin recital later that night. I gently placed most of the candles in a half-empty junk drawer of my dresser and went to my closet. I knew exactly what I wanted to wear that night.

I finally had an occasion fancy enough to wear one of the beautiful, designer dresses Liz had given me. I picked the red one, which was my ultimate favorite. The fabric was so sheer on top, you could hardly tell where the neckline began and where it met my skin. At a quick glance it almost looked like the dress didn't start till my waist, except for some expertly placed clusters of red flowers that were woven in the fabric, covering some of my stomach, my breasts, and a little bit of shoulder. There were little red, shiny beads on the lace flowers that gave the dress dimension and caught the light beautifully. It was borderline scandalous, but I didn't have the boobs to make it sleazy. It helped that it went to my knees and flared out in a full skirt instead of being skin-tight all the way down, or so I convinced myself.

I pulled my hair into a half pony tail like Darlene often did. Since my hair is only shoulder length, it doesn't have the same flow-y effect, but it kept my hair out of my face and didn't distract from the dress. I added some gold dangly earrings that I felt added to the whole glamorous effect. I hoped my parents wouldn't have a heart attack seeing me wearing something that showed so much skin.

As I pulled out some nude heels from my closet and started sliding my feet into them, I heard my cell phone ring out, notifying me of a text message. I shuffled toward the bed, trying to get my feet in the shoes as I went to grab my cell on my pillow. The text message read, _Do you have a hair from Liz's head? Either in a hair brush or an article of clothing…_

The message was from Darlene. She asked me the strangest, most off-the-wall questions sometimes. She also had a peculiar way of saying or asking things at the most convenient times, and it made me wonder how intuitive she really was. For example, she would ask if I would pick something up from a particular store just as I was about to pass it. Tansy was the same way too, now that I thought about it. Maybe there was something to this whole _becoming one with the deities_ thing that I was dismissing.

The dress I wore was clean and free of any stray hairs, so I went back to my closet to inspect the other two dresses Liz had given me. Sure enough, the black dress she had given me had a long black hair woven in between sequins. I had almost mistaken it for a black string, but as soon as I found one hair, I noticed another one and massaged them both out of the fabric.

I texted back, _Found two hairs._

_Excellent! Bring them to our session tomorrow._

I put the two hairs in a baggy and slipped it in the pocket inside my purse next to my black chalk so that I wouldn't forget it. I hoped that this was what Darlene needed to locate Liz and that soon we could get this over with, whatever it was. At the same time, I never wanted to go into this world further from our own. I imagined it'd be filled with darkness, glowing red eyes peering at me, and clawed hands stretching out to grasp my ankles. How were my little magic tricks supposed to help me against the magic of demons? Maybe Darlene could use Liz's hair to bring her back and I wouldn't have to go anywhere. Doubtful, because nothing is ever that easy, but I let myself hope.

I slung my purse over my shoulder and headed toward the door. With a quick tug of the universal force and a few seconds of concentrating on holding it to myself, I was able to open the front door and close it behind me with a thought. I smiled to myself as I let the universal force escape, almost giddy enough to jump up and down. Every time I practiced it became easier, and I became much quicker at holding it. Finding the universal force was almost second nature to me and soon I would be able to hold it to myself just as easily as I found it. I still had to use my key to lock the door, though.

The violin recital was nice, though I hadn't been aware of how far away it was and missed part of it. It had almost taken me an hour due to the distance and a wreck on the interstate and when I finally walked down the aisle, my cousin was already playing her violin solo. A lot of eyes were on me as I made my way to my seat, and I silently cursed myself for not leaving earlier.

When I sat down next to my mom in an empty seat she'd saved for me, she glanced at me and smiled. That is, until her eyes caught my dress and she frowned. _Oops_, I thought, maybe the dress wasn't family-friendly after all. A few seats over, Jessie leaned forward to wave at me, and I smiled and waved back. Good. At least maybe now we were on good terms again.

After the recital ended, my parents, Jessie, Scott, and a few other family members chatted in our corner of the music hall. Everyone praised my cousin Lacey on her violin playing and chatted about how well she was doing in school. When she came out from the back stage area, I hugged her and told her that she had done a magnificent job. My mom and her mom, my Aunt Bonnie, decided we should go out as a family to a nearby Italian restaurant, so we headed out. When we walked outside to our cars, our parents walking ahead of us, Jessie and I hung back with Lacey. We slung our arms around her shoulders and when Jessie smiled at me, I felt relieved to have my sister back. I had missed our friendship. Maybe our stupid little argument a few weeks ago was just that. S_tupid._

I stared down at my vodka tonic and stirred it with a tiny black straw as Jessie talked loudly in my ear over booming music. After our nice family dinner, Jessie had started begging me to go drinking downtown. I complained that I had the morning shift at the restaurant the next day, but Jessie argued that it was a waste to put on such a beautiful dress and not go out in it. This exchange was nothing new with us, her begging and me trying to abstain, and though I didn't really feel like going out, I was happy to have Jessie acting like her old self. And she was right about one thing: the dress was incredible.

"I don't mind if y'all go out," Scott added, not helping me. "I could meet up with a few of my buddies."

"See, even the married people want to go out!" Jessie said. She started to bounce up and down, seeing in my expression that she had already won.

"Fine, let's go," I said in defeat. So forty minutes later, SINergy was where we ended up. The club was in full force that Saturday night, people dancing and crowding around us at the bar.

Jessie had talked the whole way there and after we got our first drinks, she was still talking. Apparently marriage life was tougher than she'd imagined, and it was a big adjustment moving in with Scott. I couldn't exactly relate, but I could try to sympathize. I was getting slightly irritated that she hadn't even asked how I was or what was going on with me. I guess I should have been relieved, because I didn't know what to tell her, but after almost an hour of listening to her complain about her life, I was getting tired. As she talked, I found myself looking around the club, tuning her out. I caught sight of a guy with long black hair on the dance floor, and I craned my neck to get a better look, my heart suddenly beating faster in my chest. When I realized it wasn't a guy at all, but actually a girl in a dress too tiny for her body, I laughed at myself. I realized then that I had been looking for _him_. _Hoping to see him_. Why was I hoping to see him like a giddy schoolgirl with a crush? I should be hoping I'd never see him unless it was to strangle him. I wished more than anything that I could get him out of my head.

"See those guys across the bar?" Jessie said, and I glanced in the direction she looked in, glad for a new topic. Across the bar was a group of guys, decent looking, but not guys I would usually take a second glance at. That sounds mean, but I don't usually give second glances to most guys. I'm just not one of those people that's always on the prowl, scoping all the guys out. Maybe in high school I had been like that, but I had given up on being boy-crazy years ago. I have to admit, though, one of them stuck out to me and deserved a second glance. His head was shaved short in a buzz-cut and his skin was tanned like he spent a lot of time in the sun. He wore a cute green and black checkered button down shirt, and I could see a tattoo peeking out from underneath his shirt sleeve. He looked very casual and boyish, like he had just come from the beach or the park. I liked it better than how some of the other guys were dressing, in too-tight collared shirts and gelled hair. _Trying way too hard. _This guy's eyes were pretty, too, somehow looking bright and playful in the dim lighting. And they were aimed to make eye contact with me.

I glanced down at my drink, quickly avoiding his gaze. I took a sip of my drink to keep my hands occupied and hide the smile that was forming on my lips. "Yeah, I see 'em."

"Well, the cute one with the kind of shaved head…" she said, leaning in close to talk. "He is Maggie's older brother. I had a huge crush on him when we were in high school, but he went to another school. His name is Jonah."

"He's cute," I admitted, sneaking a look back toward the group across the bar. Jonah was gone, but all his friends were still there, laughing with each other, and some of them glanced our way. If I hadn't known better, I would've said they were talking about us. As I turned to look around the club to see where he'd gone, someone scooted up next to me. A man's voice came over the roaring music. "Hi, what's your name?"

I looked toward the person and jumped when I saw it was the guy from across the bar. He was grinning at me and extending his hand. I took it and smiled. "Hi, I'm Cara!" I yelled back, giving his hand a firm shake. His big hand was warm and dry around mine. I realized he was taller than me, even in my couple-inch heels, which is tall. I liked that a lot. He wasn't gorgeous or beautiful, the way you would describe Caymn, but he was _very cute_. Still too good-looking to be talking to me.

"I'm Jonah," he said, and he flashed his grin, his straight teeth very white against his tanned skin.

"Nice to meet you," I said, and we dropped hands. "I think I'm a little overdressed," I admitted, trying to keep the conversation rolling as best as possible. I suddenly felt nervous and awfully exposed in my revealing dress.

"I'm the one _under_dressed, I promise you. You look wonderful." I smiled at that and couldn't help but glance down at nothing as heat crept into my cheeks. He leaned in closer so we could hear each other better over the loud music. _Right_.

"I don't usually do this, but I wanted to come talk to the prettiest girl here."

"I'm not the prettiest girl here," I argued, not able to stop my broadening smile.

"Yes, you are," he said, looking around as if to make sure.

I looked with him. There were a lot of cute girls out, actually. I pointed one out by the dance floor, "I don't know, that girl with the blue dress is pretty hot."

"Eh, she's too short. I'd have to stoop down to talk to her," he said. I glanced back toward him and smiled shyly. I liked this game.

"What about her?" I asked, nodding toward a girl a few seats away from us at the bar.

"Which one?" he said, turning to look around. He pretended not to be able to see her, comically looking all over the place.

"You know, pink dress and brown hair," I said.

He whipped back around toward me when the girl saw that we were obviously talking about her. We hunched over our drinks and laughed with each other at being caught staring.

"I don't know, I prefer the red dress and blond hair."

I almost asked, "_Who?" _when I realized he was talking about me. I felt my cheeks heat up again and hoped I wasn't as red as my dress.

All of a sudden a drink slammed on the bar behind me, and I felt liquid splash a little on my shoulder and seep through the fabric of my dress. It wasn't a lot, but it got my attention. I turned to see my sister still sitting there, glaring at us with her hand tightly gripping a new drink. I had completely forgotten she was sitting there, and when I took in the new drink and the way her eyes seemed red and hazy, I knew she was drunk. And pissed off. _Oh geez._

Before I could ask what her attitude was about, she grabbed my arm and yanked me. "Excuse me, but me and my sister need to have a girl chat." I was tempted to yank my arm back and tell her to stop, but I really didn't want to start a scene in front of this guy. Well, an even bigger scene.

"I'll be back shortly," I said, smiling at him, but now it was a tight smile.

Jessie made a noise in her throat that sounded suspiciously like a growl and I let her pull me away, nearly dragging me to the bathroom. I would not let her make me lose my temper in front of all these people, I told myself. When we were in the bathroom and the door swung shut, she faced me with a look that was pure hatred. "What are you doing out there? I told you I've had a crush on that guy forever!"

I stood back, shocked. "You're married!" was all I could think to say.

She huffed. "Yeah, I'm married, but that's against the sister code. You can't go for guys I've always liked!"

I felt my temper start to rise and I took a deep breath to calm myself. "First off, I did not go after_ anyone_. He came to talk to me. And even if I did, you never dated him! The sister code doesn't apply for someone you've had a little crush on! I really hope this is just alcohol talking, because this is crazy."

"Are you calling me _crazy?!_" She all but screamed at me and I braced myself, starting to think she might launch herself at me. "I can't stand you anymore, Cara! I can't _fucking _stand you!"

I couldn't help but feel a little hurt. "What did I do that made everything change with us? You used to be my best friend," I said. I knew I shouldn't even try to talk to her, that there is no reasoning with a drunk person, but I couldn't help myself.

"Well, there's the key words, huh? _Used to be_! You're not the same anymore. _You've_ changed! I hate this new…" she waved her hand in my general direction. "Version of you!"

I was finally starting to like myself instead of just forcing myself to be satisfied with what I had been stuck with. I was finally happy, but she hated me for it? As much as I knew she was being childish and I shouldn't let her words said in drunkenness hurt me, they did. I believed she meant them.

She took off out of the bathroom, stomping out. As the door swung crazily back and forth, I thought about letting her go. Let her throw her hissy fit! I didn't deserve this. But I followed her. I had to. Though the club wasn't in an especially bad area, no girl should be walking around in the dark in a drunken stupor. Who knew where she'd end up? I walked out of the bathroom and tried to stay a good fifteen feet behind her as she pushed through people.

Suddenly, someone came up close beside me. "Cara!" It was Jonah.

I kept walking, though I slowed my pace for him. "Hey, I actually have to go…"

"Well can I get your number or something?" He scratched the back of his neck and stooped down as he walked with me, looking a little unsure of himself. Little did he know, this was the first time a guy had ever asked for my number. And here he was, nervous. It was very…attractive. Kind of charming.

"Sure, I'll give it to you," I said, elated.

"Great! Here's a pen." He handed me a pen and I clicked it open. I wondered if he didn't have a cell phone to input my number into or if he just wanted an excuse to touch me. Either way, it didn't matter. He gave me his forearm and I grabbed it to steady it. My fingers tingled where they touched him as I wrote my number.

Fortunately, I got Jessie into my car without any screaming or arguing. In fact, she didn't even talk to me as she fell into the passenger seat and slammed the door shut.

"Should I call Scott to pick you up?"

"Fine, yeah, call _Scott_," she said, spitting out his name in hatred. I wasn't sure if the hatred was aimed at me or him, but I called.

"You want me to pick her up _now_?" Scott complained when I tried to gently explain the situation. Now Scottwas aggravating me. In my opinion he should be rushing to save her. "Yes, please pick her up."

"Fine," he grumbled. "I'll head that way in a few minutes."

"No, Scott, now!" I yelled. I was trying to avoid having another argument start between Jessie and me, but now Scott was getting on my last nerve.

There was silence on the phone for a moment, except for some chatting in the background.

"He's a fucking jerk!" Jessie screamed, leaning toward my phone. "He doesn't care about me!"

"You know what, Cara? Keep her!" Scott yelled through the phone. "I'm not coming anywhere!" And he hung up. I stared at the phone, shocked. Jessie started yelling more, as if Scott could still hear her. I started driving toward my apartment, not wanting to sit in a dark parking lot any longer.

"Stop it, Jessie! I'm taking you to my apartment."

"No, take me home! Take me home, take me home!" she demanded.

"No!" I shouted back. "I'm going to call dad to pick you up." She all but begged me not to call Bruce, but I had had enough. Let someone else deal with her that would be able to handle her. To my relief, Jessie didn't scream at me while I was on the phone with Bruce, even though I sat next to her, ratting her out. Even in her inebriated state, she knew better than to throw a screaming fit with Bruce listening in, and after some convincing on my part, he agreed to pick her up.

By some miracle we made it up and into my apartment without any more arguing, but it didn't last long. "Sit down on my bed till he gets here. We'll watch some TV," I suggested as we walked into my bedroom. She stared dejectedly around my room, until she caught sight of the pentagram table shoved between my TV and dresser drawers.

"What is that?" she asked, pointing to the table.

When I realized what she was looking at, I was at a loss of words. "I, uh…"

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed. "Have you become a Satanist?"

"What? No!" I tried to explain. "The right side up pentagram actually means the complete opposite of what you might think. It means protection, and the five points represent the elements and the spirit…" I realized she wasn't listening, but staring at something past me.

"Practical Spells for the Modernized Witch?" she said accusingly as she pointed to the books on my bed and started marching toward them. I tried to grab them before she could get to them, but she knocked them out of my hands and they clattered to the floor.

"The Book of Complete Witchcraft?" she said, reading another book's title before I snatched them away and shoved them underneath my pillow.

"A witch is not a Satanist! You have it all wrong!" I said, frustrated.

"Oh my god, wait till I tell Mom and dad! Do you think you're an actual witch?" There was laughter in her voice.

"No!" I said. "Please, Jessie, you know they won't understand!" Though my parents didn't actively go to church or read the Bible, they would absolutely not understand or want to understand. Bruce might not shun me for it, but my mom? Who knew?

"It all makes sense now," Jessie said, staring off distantly, then meeting my eyes with a look of shocked horror. "How everything about you has changed all of the sudden, the thing you did with your eyes…"

"You have it wrong, Jessie!" I said, my voice rising higher in warning.

"You are putting spells on yourself, aren't you? Oh, wait till Mom hears about this!" she said. "That you're a Satan-worshipping witch!" I could care less that she was drunk. That was a low blow and she knew it. And suddenly her lips twitched in a smile, as if I were her enemy and she'd finally found my one weakness.

"How dare you!" I screamed, wanting to slap that look off her face and finally losing the last bit of patience I had. "How dare you come to my house and threaten to tell our parents about what I'm doing. Look at yourself before you start pointing fingers at me!"

She suddenly looked scared, not angry or accusing, but flat out panicked. Her eyes showed too much white as she frantically ran for my bedroom door and clattered out of my apartment, glancing back once with terror showing plain on her face. First, I was confused, but then I noticed the buzzing against my skin and knew it wasn't just my anger that was making me shake. I was holding onto the universal force. I touched my face and for a moment I felt that my cheekbone was so sharp that it should cut out of my skin before it seemed to mold back to its normal, softer shape.


	13. Chapter 13 pt 1

Thirteen

"Cara, are you paying attention?"

I jerked my head from where I stared emptily into the woods to face Darlene, who stood above me holding the large, red leather book with both hands. She looked annoyed, but I don't think it was wholly because of me. She was having trouble translating the last part of the locating spell: one ingredient.She hadn't been able to find the translation for the one Latin word anywhere.

We sat outside in the muggy August afternoon heat on the stone circle slab. Tansy and I sat on the white washed stones and Darlene paced around us with the large book in her hands. "Yes, sorry, I'm listening," I lied, wiping the beads of sweat forming on my forehead. I was stripped down to nothing but jean shorts and a sweat-soaked tank top that I had rolled up to reveal my stomach, hoping to get some kind of relief from the heat. My shoulder length hair clung to the back of my neck where sweat mixed with the SPF 80 I'd spread all over myself. The sun had finally hidden behind the trees, but the stones were still uncomfortably warm. I felt awful and looked worse. On top of being painfully hot, I was exhausted. The previous night with Jessie had been frustrating, work this morning had been agony, and I had no idea why we were outside in the heat.

"Where are the hairs?" Darlene asked, finally sitting in front of us and splaying the book in front of herself. Her purple dress pooled around her and her long strawberry-blond hair fell over her shoulder like a curtain. She looked beautiful and made me think that if she had pointed ears, she would be a wood nymph or a woodland fairy—some kind of magical thing from the woods. Tansy looked like a shorter-haired gothic version in a long black dress with slits going to her upper thighs and graphic design of three moons on her chest in different lunar phases. They both looked too comfortable in this heat.

"Cara, the hairs!"

I jumped and grabbed my purse that was lumped beside me. "Sorry, it's just so hot out here. I can't concentrate," I whined as I fumbled around for the baggy with two hairs.

"You spend too much of your time hiding out in the air conditioning!" Darlene snapped. "You should spend more time outdoors in nature! We're getting that now!"

I refrained from groaning aloud, but couldn't help frowning at her as I put one of the hairs gently in her palm. She grasped it with two fingers and inspected it.

"What if it's something like pig's blood or something?" Tansy offered, going back to the mystery ingredient.

I wrinkled my nose at the image of myself smeared in pig's blood. I did not want to go anywhere covered in pig's blood, let alone some scary alternate universe, but when I imagined Liz, possibly being tortured and locked up, I thought I could do it.

"I don't believe we need anything that harms another creature. I wouldn't have seen the premonition if that were the case, because we would never sacrifice anything for any reason."

"You don't have to sacrifice an animal to get pig's blood. You could get that from pork chops at the grocery store," I said. "Maybe it _is_ some sort of blood."

Darlene looked at me very seriously. "I hope it's not."

We sat silent for a minute, not sure of how to proceed. We had been talking about this all week, all searching for answers separately, and not getting any closer to finding out what the ingredient was. Darlene had even gone as far as contacting a college professor of the Latin language, and even he hadn't known what the word meant. In fact, he said he didn't believe it was a word from the Latin language.

"And you don't think there's any way around this ingredient?" I said, though I knew the answer already. _We are going in circles._

"There are two very similar spells in the book," Darlene said as she flipped from one page to another, both with sticky notes poking from the pages, which for some reason looked humorous to me. "One is for going to this Barathrum and another one is to locate an object, both containing this mystery ingredient. I believe if you mix the spells a certain way and have the ingredient smeared against your skin, you will be able to go into this further world and land right by the person that the focusing object belongs to, in this case the strand of hair. When we find out what this other ingredient is, we are going to smear it on your chest, you will hold onto the cosmic energy, and say these words…" Darlene flattened a piece of lined paper with her handwriting on it, the writing being an incantation from the two spells that she'd put together.

"_Ad abyssos de Barathrum, ego expectamus hanc mulierem, i accipere in tenebris, invenire hanc mulierem in Barathrum_."

Without thinking, I was weaving the universal force within myself, and I absentmindedly twirled Liz's other hair around my forefinger. I repeated the words, practicing the pronunciation.

The moment I said the last word, my ears popped and I felt the air pressure change around me. I met eyes with Darlene, who looked surprised, and at the corner of my eye I could see Tansy making a similar expression. Almost as soon as I realized that they were feeling something too, I felt as if someone kicked me in the stomach and the air whooshed out of my lungs. Panic rose up in me and I wanted to scream. Next, my eyesight went and I was pushed into complete, utter darkness. I felt paralyzed, separated from my own physical body. The only things I could feel were the panic rising where my gut should have been and the sensation of being pulled at a thousand miles an hour by my aching lungs.

When I thought I might not be able to bear another second, the sensations slowed until everything seemed still. When my vision started to return, I blinked and tried to focus. I was standing right side up in a new place, and I wobbled on my suddenly weak legs. With my first deep breath of dry, hot air, I took in my surroundings. Everything in this world I saw was either in the shade of blood red or black shadow. Red buildings of all different styles and architecture surrounded me, each one more extravagant and ridiculous than the next, like palaces from foreign countries and lost wonders of the world. The dusty dirt road underneath my bare feet was red. The few people walking down the street wore different shades of red and black. Even I was red! I stared at my red-tinted hands for a moment, idly wondering where the hair had gone, before I realized I was standing in red lighting. When I looked up at the sun, if a sun was what it was, it shone bright in the blood-red sky like a crimson light bulb. It was the strangest sensation, appearing there—like stepping for the first time into a darkroom where photographs are developed, except on a much larger scale.

Noticing that other people were walking by, I took a few steps up the dirt road, trying to focus my eyes through the red thickness while trying to be inconspicuous. The street wasn't heavily populated, but the few people that were out didn't take a second glance at me, which was unexpected, because I looked very conspicuous in jean shorts, a tank top, and no shoes. They were dressed in long hooded cloaks with the hoods up over their heads, just glimpses of their faces showing. The faces I glanced at looked human and normal, besides a few of them being decorated with black designs that looked shocking, but somehow pretty in their placement. Tattoos, maybe? Though the people never glanced back at me, they seemed to make an effort to avoid getting too close to my path. I didn't know if they were demon or human, though I assumed they were human, but I avoided their paths as well.

I did feel someone's eyes on me though, their gaze boring into me and making the hair on the back of my neck stand. I glanced back and up at one of the buildings as I walked, and sure enough, two yellow eyes peered at me through an arched opening a few stories up. I didn't slow my pace but hunched slightly in on myself as I continued. As I turned back toward the path in front of me, I suddenly caught sight of a figure with black, swaying hair. If I hadn't had such a hard time focusing through the disorienting cloud of red, I would have noticed the girl with her hood brazenly draped over her shoulders immediately. I was relieved and amazed that the spell had worked and taken me straight to her, even without that secret ingredient! Who would have known?

But now she was getting away. _Liz! _I wanted to shout her name out, but the street was too strangely quiet. The only sounds I could hear were strange music playing far away, like a whining violin or guitar, and the shuffling of my feet in the sand. She was walking fast and I tried to quicken my pace to an almost run, hoping I wasn't going to draw any _more_ unwanted attention to myself. I imagined a million eyes suddenly peering through windows above me, but I didn't dare look up to check.

I stifled a groan and slowed my pace as she walked straight into a large open building. As I got closer, the area became more congested and I realized it was an indoor marketplace. I took a deep breath, gathering my courage, and walked into the crowd of hooded cloaks. It was darker in this long indoor market, but still red, making it almost impossible for me to see. People were yelling at each other in English and at least one other language, which I was guessing was Latin.

"Lamb's blood! Get your blood of the innocent!" someone shouted, and it was the only thing in English that stuck out to me. I was tempted to look in the direction of the voice, but I trained my eyes on Liz to prevent myself from losing her. She stopped at a table with jewelry, all the pieces made from simple-looking metal strands holding small, smooth black stones of some kind. Or were they actually red stones? I couldn't tell.

She started struggling to communicate with the woman selling the jewelry, talking slowly and deliberately in another language. Without saying a word, I went to stand next to her, trying to get her attention without tipping off the other woman or anyone around me.

"Ah, _sanguinem innocentem_?" Liz was saying and pointing to a piece of jewelry when she turned her eyes toward me. She didn't have a drop of makeup on, but she could pull that look off better than anyone I knew. Her outfit looked like a monk's robe, but her dark hair and strikingly light-colored eyes were beautiful, even in the red lighting.

Her eyes suddenly widened. "Cara!" she said a little too loudly, and a few passersby glanced our way. I felt so self-conscious, being the only person in sight not wearing a robe. I got closer to her so we could whisper. The lady conveniently ignored us, shouting in Latin to the passersby to take a look at her product. "Oh my god, you're here! Who is your host?"

She took in what I was wearing, eyes getting larger, as I asked her, "What do you mean, 'host'?"

She grabbed my wrist a little too hard and without another word, she yanked me away from the table, taking me back the way we'd come. I didn't struggle, trusting that she knew better than me and relieved to be escaping the crowded marketplace.

"Cara, why aren't you wearing your blood robes? You should know only demons can go without blood robes," she hissed, glancing up to the tall buildings as if looking for eyes staring through the windows and arches. She put her arm around my shoulder, drawing me really close, maybe so we'd look like one person at a quick glance. Her cloak billowed around me, shielding me. I took a glance at her face and her eyes bulged, too much white visible.

"I don't have a robe," I replied. "Liz, I've come to take you back home."

"I don't want to go home," she said and I almost stopped, I was so surprised. Only her tight grip on me kept me walking.

"What do you mean, you don't want to go home?"

She stared back at me as we walked, our noses almost touching. It would have been uncomfortably close in different circumstances, but being where we were, it was comforting being so close to a human I was well-acquainted with.

"My former life was almost unlivable, Cara. I couldn't stand being alone before, but now I'm living a new, exciting life. My host is probably one of the best in the third city, and I'm one of the few human familiars that have gone outside at night."

I at least knew what a familiar was, thanks to Tansy. But former life? Third city? _What was she talking about?_

"What is a host?" I asked for the second time, deciding I'd ask one thing at a time.

"A host is a master of someone."

"So you're like a slave or a pet?" I hissed.

"Maybe some familiars are," she shrugged. "But I'm treated more like a favored servant."

"And you're okay with that?" I couldn't believe this. This didn't seem like the Liz I knew, who was the worst server at Angel Oak, who griped and complained almost every chance she got. How could this girl, of all people, enjoy being anyone's servant? I'd imagined I was going to have to save someone who was chained up and broken of spirit. Liz seemed cheerful as we walked down the street, if not a little concerned for me. It should have been the other way around!

"I have come to terms with it," she said. "Everything is so new and interesting. I'm not ready to leave."

"What about your parents? And your brother!"

She frowned, and our pace slowed. "Are they looking for me?" she asked quietly.

"Yes, you've been an official missing person for two weeks! Your brother came into the restaurant once when I was in, and the other waitresses have talked to your parents! They've put signs around town…" I let my words trail off as I watched her face. She looked a little sad, but not like my news really changed anything.

"Maybe I can have you deliver a note for me. I especially miss my little brother, Henry. It makes me sad that I might not ever see them again."

"I-I don't understand," I said, fumbling over my words, feeling at a loss.

"You don't understand, because you've never had a relationship and never been in love. Once you love something so much, everything and everyone else seem less important. You still love your family, but you can live without them," she said, her frown turning into a smile as she seemed to talk herself out of missing her family.

"You're in love?" I said too loudly, then lowered my voice, "Is it Caymn?"

"Caymnaburus?" she said, then laughed. "Oh god, no!" Then she couldn't seem to stop chuckling at the thought.

"Well, then who?" I asked, irritated that she was laughing at me.

"No one! I'm in love with this place. You must not have been here long at all if you don't know what I'm talking about. Everything is like taking drugs, giving into your greatest desires without regret in the morning. We have no reason for regret here! There are no consequences for your actions if you know the rules. I eat all I want and never gain weight. That's just one example."

"What, like you just don't get fat at all?" She was distracting me.

"There is a spell for everything. Our hosts don't want us to be fat. We are their servants, but to an extent they are ours and give us a lot of what we've always wanted. They don't want us whining and complaining when we both can have what we want. I am tired of resisting the things I want."

I was about to ask what it was that demons got out of their servants, because it must have been more than doing little errands, but suddenly we were walking through a door and the red thickness that clouded my vision waned. Due to either the troubling conversation or the red murkiness, I hadn't noticed where she had been taking me, but now she was shutting a door behind us and the red was forced out. She sighed loudly, obviously relieved.

"Oh my god, where are we?" I said, not sure if I should be relieved that we were off of the open streets or more scared that we could be near her master. A demon, for god's sake!

I noticed that she was much paler than before, most of her summer tan gone, but it didn't lessen her beauty. "Relax," she said, grabbing me by the shoulders and turning me away from the door and toward the room. A good way to describe the room's style was "gothic realm." There were no windows, no candles or lamps, but the room was somehow dimly illuminated. There were two black doors with intricate designs running through them, one that we had come from and one on the opposite side of the room. The design was a mix of modern and gothic, with everything in shades of grey, black, and some expertly placed silver here and there. It reminded me a little bit of the decorating style at Liz's Charleston house, but a little more gothic. "We are at my host's house. Like the couch? I actually picked out the color scheme," she said proudly, striding past me to run her hand along the black and grey couch.

"Your host is…" I was going to say, "_Caymnaburus, right?" _but the far door opened, the heavy door creaking on its hinges, stopping me short. I stared wide-eyed as Caymn walked through the door, gazing down at a large book in his hands. He had not touched the door; it had swung open for him.

"That was fast, Elizabeth. Were you able to find the…" He looked up and the moment he saw me, the book fell out of his open hand, tumbling to the ground. He looked gorgeous, even more than I remembered. His eyes weren't red or abnormal as before, but the most beautiful and astonishing shade of green. He was taller than I remembered and lean, not too skinny and not too muscle-y. He was wearing black fitted pants, a puffy white pirate-style shirt, and a green velvet coat with rich embroidered details that accentuated his broad shoulders and trim waist. It was a ridiculous outfit you might see on a runway in Paris or on a rich pirate. It should have been laughable, but he looked absolutely perfect. My heart jumped in my chest and I tried to chalk it up to fear or anger, but if I were honest, I felt neither of those things.

You've reached the halfway point of my book.

Thanks for reading!

If you'd like to continue reading, The Devil in her Heart is available on

Amazon via kindle and paperback.

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